QBRARTr 

OF 
DAW 


the 
BEDFORD 


,\RY 


THEODORE  PARKER'S  WRITINGS. 


PUBLISHED  BY 

».  APPtETOM  «fc  CO.,  Stew  York,  and 
T.   O.    If.   P.   BlIRNHAfflU  Boston. 


A  Discourse  of  Matters  Pertaining  to 

Religion.     Fifth  Edition.     1  vol.  12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

Sermons  of  Theism^  Atheism,  and  Pop- 

ular  Theology.     1  vol.  12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

Ten  Sermons  of  Religion. 

1  vol.  12mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

Critical  and  Miscellaneous  Writings. 

1  vol.  12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

Speeches,    Addresses,    and    Occasional 

Sermons.     Second  Edition.     3  vols.  12m<>.     Cloth,  $3.75. 

Additional  Speeches,  Addresses,  and  Oc- 

casional  S  rmons.     2  vols.  12mo.     Cloth,  $3.00. 

A  Critical  and  Historical  Introduction 

to  the  Canonical  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament.  From  the  German 
of  DE  WETTK.  Translated  and  enlarged  by  THEODORE  PARKER.  Third 
Edition,  ii  vols.  8vo.  Cloth,  $6.50. 

The  Trial  of  Theodore  Parker 

for  the  "Misdemeanor"  of  a  Speech  in  Faneuil  Hall  against  Kidnap 
ping,  before  the  Circuit  Court  of  the  United  States,  at  Boston,  April 
3d,  1855.  With  the  Defence.  This  book  contains  the  best  collections 
extant  respecting  the  doctrines  of  Constructive  Treasons  r.nd  Sedition, 
and  delineates  the  characteraand  acts  of  the  infamous  Judges,  Kelyngo, 
Jeffries,  and  Scroggs.  Indeed,  it  is  of  great  value  as  a  law  book.  1 
vol.  8vo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

The  Two  Christmas  Celebrations, 

A.D.  I.  and  MDCCCLV.     A  Christmas  Story.     1  vol.     Cloth,  50  cts. 


LIFE    A^D    COKBESPOKDENCE 


OF 


THEODORE     PAEKEE. 


Ena  ?fyF.h~a2frin.  from  x,Ea?ut?T&iypz  taken  in.  ISfJ. 


LIF&  AND  CORRESPONDENCE 


OP 


THEODORE   PARKER, 


MINISTER  OF  THE 
TWENTY-EIGHTH  CONGREGATIONAL  SOCIETY,    BOSTON. 


,  M3N 

'fe| 


NMVaOHlIM 

JOHN    WEISS. 


IN       TWO       VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


NEW   YOEK: 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  443  &  445  BROADWAY 

1864. 


OTOVERSITY  OF  C  Ml 


/e  «  e'«   j£jh^BEi£  accprdUig.t9  Ac* <tf ^oD^ess,  jn  ttwjyg^l^S^      J 

•  c   ee«    tee«»e      &T«JOSS®H  L¥MAN,  t  c  c   e    €« 

In  thff  (ieflfyfQt&64ttQ&  jiltrk*cCourt1S5rcftieJ?fetk'cf  of  Masaachuaetts. 


PREFACE. 


SOON  after  this  Memoir  was  commenced,  in  the  spring  of  1861, 
it  became  evident  that  the  original  plan  of  publishing  a  single 
small  volume  would  serve  to  present  hardly  a  sketch  of  Mr. 
Parker's  vari^i  and  useful  life.  At  the  same  time,  the  biogra 
phical  material,  principally  in  the  form  of  letters,  began  to 
increase  in  such  a  way  that  the  plan  was  insensibly  enlarged, 
and  the  publication  from  time  to  time  postponed.  These  delays 
fortunately  coincided  with  a  season  of  great  dulness  in  the 
literary  market,  when  the  events  of  the  War  were  absorbing 
every  mind. 

As  the  mass  of  letters  which  existed  among  Mr.  Parker's 
papers  became  slowly  reduced  to  a  sequence  of  time  and  to 
alphabetical  order,  so  that  the  subjects  discussed  and  the  names 
and  qualities  of  the  writers  could  be  seen,  it  was  plain  how 
much  important  matter  from  his  own  hand  remained  yet  uncol- 
lected  from  every  part  of  the  country  and  from  the  Old  World. 
This  index  of  correspondence  registered,  by  the  surest  and  most 
delicate  of  tests,  his  diffused  and  latent  life.  It  was  worth 
while  to  spend  a  good  many  months  in  obeying  such  directions 
— to  bid  the  man  rise  from  beneath  these  sumptuous  epitaphs  of 
love,  reverence,  and  human  dependence. 

This  has  been  done  to  the  extent  which  these  volumes  will 
show.  No  friend  of  Mr.  Parker  will  regret  the  laborious  delay 
which  has  recalled  so  many  expressions  of  his  mind  upon  such 
varied  themes. 


VI  PREFACE. 

The  distribution  of  these  letters  conforms  to  the  method  of 
the  memoir,  which  could  not  be  a  chronological  one  without 
greatly  confusing  the  subjects  covered  by  his  life.  To  do  justice 
to  each  subject,  and  develope  his  thought  thereon,  and  to  pre 
serve  distinctness  of  effect,  the  memoir  remands  into  groups,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  elements  of  his  manifold  career.  The  order 
of  time  is  preserved  in  the  narrative  of  his  material  and  mental 
growth  to  full  manhood  and  consciousness  of  the  work  he  had  in 
hand,  and  wherever  else  it  can  be  done  without  running  together 
too  many  themes. 

The  Journal  is  a  collection  of  a  dozen  manuscript  volumes, 
some  of  them  bulky  ledgers,  which  are  thickly  sown  with 
extracts,  analyses  of  books,  notifications  of  thinking.  They 
would  be  called  commonplace-books  were  it  not  for  the  vein  of 
his  private  life  which  occasionally  appears  at  the  surface,  and  for 
the  fact  that  his  book-reading  and  note- making  are  really 
personal ;  for  they  grow  with  his  growth  in  a  most  simple  and 
organic  way.  The  diaristic  matter  makes  a  small  portion  of  the 
whole  contents  of  these  volumes.  I  have  given  all  of  it  that 
contributes  to  a  knowledge  of  his  life. 

Besides  the  collection  which  I  have  called  "The  Journal," 
there  are  several  little  pocket  note-books,  out  of  which  something 
has  been  gleaned,  principally  from  those  which  he  used  during  his 
last  journey  ings.  But  the  few  passages  that  are  found  in  a  con 
dition  to  print  appear  as  from  "  The  Journal." 

Wherever  a  citation  occurs  from  his  printed  works,  it  is  made 
from  the  only  uniform  American  edition  that  has  appeared.  Many 
of  the  foot-notes  would  be  trivial  or  superfluous  except  for  the 
English  and  foreign  reader,  for  whose  benefit  they  were  inserted. 
It  is  difficult  to  anticipate  where  a  foreign  reader  might  need  a 
note  or  explanation  ;  sometimes  I  may  have  exceeded,  sometimes 
fallen  short  of,  the  natural  requisition. 

His  brother,  Isaac  Parker,  his  nephew,  Columbus  Greene,  and 
other  persons,  have  most  kindly  furnished  recollections  of  different 
portions  of  his  life,  chiefly  of  his  boyhood.  And  his  friends  have 
freely  rendered  up  the  precious  letters  which  they  had  in  keep- 


PREFACE.  Vll 

ing  ;  and  distant  and  unknown,  as  well  as  famous,  persons,  in 
both  hemispheres,  whose  names  and  habitat  were  discovered 
only  by  a  sifting  of  the  correspondence,  have,  with  hardly  an 
exception,  responded  to  the  call  for  the  letters  in  their  possession. 
Mrs.  Parker  would  publicly  return  thanks  to  all  these.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  for  me  to  add  how  much  the  memoir  is  indebted 
to  such  contributions. 

But  it  is  indebted  greatly  to  that  devoted  heart,  that  delicate 
disposition,  and  that  good  sense,  which  has  been  left  to  recall 
how  loving  a  husband  was  this  champion  of  oppressed  thoughts 
and  people,  and  to  build,  with  most  careful  and  assiduous  hands, 
a  memorial  to  the  dear  one,  so  illustrious  to  her  by  private 
sweetness  as  by  public  sendee.  It  is  from  her  that  I  have 
derived  all  my  authority  and  opportunity  to  undertake  this 
work. 

Only  three  years  have  passed  since  another  ministry  called 
the  noble  and  variously  gifted  man,  whom  my  pen,  at  a  long 
interval  and  with  many  an  imperfect  movement,  has  been 
striving  to  recal,  hoping,  at  least,  not  greatly  to  mar  the 
character  which  is  now  perceived  to  have  been  bone  of  the  bone 
arid  flesh  of  the  flesh  of  America.  But  the  consideration  which 
is  paid  to  him,  in  all  quarters  where  it  is  worthy  to  be  well 
remembered,  through  most  diverse  theological  and  political  con 
fessions,  is  a  tribute  which  hastens  very  early  to  his  grave.  In 
England  alone,  the  simultaneous  publication  of  two  distinct 
editions  of  his  Works,*  though  both  of  them  are  quite  un 
authorized,  and  neither  respects  the  duty  and  wishes  which  rule 
in  his  late  home,  sufficiently  attests  the  importance  of  his 
writings  to  the  popular  mind,  to  develope  therein  free  and 
manly  thought. 

The  soil  of  no  grave  was  ever  more  fertile.     Men,  who  ex- 

*  One,  edited  by  Miss  F.  P.  Cobbe,  and  published  by  Triibner  and  Co.,  entitled  "  The 
Collected  Works  of  Theodore  Parker,"  &c.  ;  the  other,  published  by  Barker  and  Co. , 
4,  Thanet  Place,  Strand,  and  called  "The  Works  of  Theodore  Parker,  Minister  of  the 
Twenty-Eighth  Congregational  Church,  Boston,  U.S."  The  latter  edition,  the  price  of 
which  is  but  two  shillings  per  volume,  has  the  merit  of  cheapness,  with  good  type  and 
paper. 


viii  PREFACE. 

pected  that  his  influence  would  become  extinct,  and  that  he  had 
no  gifts  incisive  enough  to  write  his  name  upon  the  heart, 
acknowledge  even  now  that  he  was  a  representative  man,  with 
conscience  and  humanity  enough  to  feed  a  generation,  to  warn 
and  to  save,  to  build  up  with  healthy  tissue,  to  repair  the  de 
generate  waste  of  a  noble  people,  and  to  pull  down  and  trample 
on  their  crimes  alone.  He  has  been  missed  during  these  three 
years.  The  best  men  have  asked  for  him,  because  they  wanted 
New  England  granite  to  build  with  a  breakwater,  to  have  firm 
words  to  put  in  slippery  places,  that  the  country  might  be  helped 
across  into  purpose  and  a  definite  policy  of  freedom.  Men  have 
said,  at  home  and  abroad,  in  various  tongues,  He  grows  upon  us  : 
he  was  healthy  as  immortality,  he  was  as  unconventional  as  a 
period  of  revolution  always  must  be — a  strong  soil  full  of  seeds  : 
the  more  you  till  it,  the  better  it  nods  with  wheat,  and  corn,  and 
all  the  substantial  elements  of  human  food.  Foreign  thinkers 
are  very  quick  to  perceive  the  drift  of  his  mind,  and  very  en 
thusiastic  to  recognize  his  capacity  for  entertaining  righteousness. 
They  see  from  afar,  what  we  are  now  beginning  to  see  close  at 
hand,  that  he  was  a  pioneer  of  this  America  which  has  been 
sending  her  dreadful  columns  over  roads  of  his  surveying  and 
which  he  helped  to  clear. 

It  would  be  surprising  to  see  how  readily  everything  which 
is  now  happening  connects  itself  with  his  sincerity  and  indigna 
tion,  if  we  did  not  know  that  God's  hand  holds  nothing  but 
things  that  are  sincere,  and  that  His  earth  must  grow  the  things 
that  are  planted.  It  is  the  test  of  the  symmetry  of  a  great 
mind  ;  its  anticipations  Providence  seems  to  have  overheard,  so 
readily  do  its  thoughts,  its  just  wrath,  its  salutary  hatred,  its 
heavenly  hopes,  become  converted  into  history, 

His  Life  appears  at  the  very  moment  when  the  great  struggle 
which  he  anticipated  is  going  against  the  wickedness  which  he 
smote  so  valiantly.  The  sound  of  victorious  cannon  is  a  salvo  of 
recognition  over  his  distant  grave — a  thundering  welcome  paid, 
so  soon  after  those  mutterings  of  hatred  and  contempt,  to  the 
great  sense  of  liberty  which  he  represented.  The  Lexington 


PKEFACE.  IX 

blood  is  cold  ;  flowers  cover  that  simple  and  manly  presence,  and 
divert  our  thoughts  from  its  decay  ;  he  is  absent  upon  some 
ministry  that  requires  a  brave  and  unselfish  heart.  But  look 
through  the  hearts  of  the  common  people  who  supply  this  red 
ness  and  are  blushing  so  frankly  at  Gettysburg  and  Charleston, 
— what  American  ever  had  so  good  a  right  as  he  to  say,  as  for 
himself,  "  There  is  a  day  after  to-day  "  ? 

Through  three-and-fifty  years  of  his  I  have  been  wandering — 
for  the  last  words  of  this  Preface  pass  under  my  hand  upon  the 
anniversary  of  his  birth — fifty,  almost,  of  his  faithful  life,  three 
of  the  proud  tears  and  keen  recognition  of  the  noblest  minds. 
As  I  must  at  length  commit  this  imperfect  memorial  to  the  gen 
tleness  of  all  readers,  can  I  help  recollecting  that  my  hand  has 
been  held  by  a  stalwart  nature,  whose  thought  and  aflfection 
have  passed,  to  thrill  and  enrich  me  ?  He  has  confirmed  and 
guided  me.  He  has  befriended  the  conscience  and  the  will ;  he 
has  been  munificent  with  suggestion.  He  drops  my  hand,  and 
leaves  me  for  the  host  of  friends  and  lovers  to  whom  his  presence 
has  so  long  been  due. 

August  24,  1863. 


CONTENTS    OF    VOL    I, 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Ancestors  and  Family — Thomas  Parker,  of  Browsholme,  1609— Emigrates, 
163 5 —Jonathan,  1680 — Hananiah,  at  Port  Royal,  1710— Benj.  Stearns  and 
Hannah  Seger,  1754— Capt.  John  Parker,  April  19,  1775— John  Parker  and 
Hannah  Stearns— Theodore  Parker,  Aug.  24,  1810 1-15 

CHAPTER  II. 
Autobiography— Childhood— From  Birth  till  the  Age  of  Eight        .        .        .       17-26 

CHAPTER   III. 

House  and  Neighbourhood — Early  Spiritual  Troubles — Sin — Immortality — His 
Character  in  Boyhood— School— Reading  at  Home — Enters  Harvard  College 
—1830.  . .  .  .  27-48 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Teaching  in  Boston — Hard  Study — Dejection  and  its  Causes— Private  School  in 
Watertown,  April,  1832— Theological  Studies— Dr.  Francis— Watertown 
People— Enters  the  Theological  School,  1834— Views  and  Studies— Contri 
butions  to  the  "Scriptural  Interpreter"— Visitation-Day  .  .  .  .  49-88 

» 

CHAPTER  V. 

A  Candidate— 1836-37— Marriage— Settlement  at  West  Roxbury— Neighbors 
and  Studies — Choice  Friends — Dr.  Channing — Mr.  Emerson's  Discourse,  1838 
— Strauss — Gome-Outers— Doubts  about  Physical  and  Moral  Evil — Thoughts 
and  Queries— 1840 89-129 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Grotou  Convention — Letters— Speculations  upon  Physical  and  Moral  Evil— Sin  130-159 

CHAPTER   VII. 

The  "New  School"— The  South-Boston  Sermon,  May  19,  1841— "Discourse 
of  Matters  pertaining  to  Religion" — De  Wette's  "Introduction  to  the  Old 
Testament"  .  .  160-199 


xii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

To  Europe— France,  Italy,  Germany — Extracts  from  Journal ....  200-220 

CHAPTER   IX. 
Letters  written  in  Europe— To  Isaac  Parker— Dr.  Francis— Dr.  Lamson,  1844  .  221-247 

CHAPTER   X. 

Return— Odium  Theologicum— Letters— Leaves  West  Roxbury — Melodeon — 
Massachusetts  Quarterly  Review  .  .  .  .  *  .  .-.  ..  .  248-281 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Exeter  Place — The  Country— Friendship — Pleasant  Traits— Some  Letters        .  282-313 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Familiar  Letters  :  to  Hon.  Charles  Sumner — Rev.  S.  J.  May — E.  Desor — Peter 

Lesley— Professor  H.  D.  Rogers — to  his  Niece,  and  others  .        ...      .         .  314-350 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

Letters:  Theological,  Religious,  Scholarly — To  Dr.  Francis— To  Robert  White, 
upon  Shakerism— To  Rev.  S.  J.  May,  Rev.  J.  H.  Allen,  and  others  .  .  351-406 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Twenty-Eighth  Congregational  Society— The  Music  Hall -Preaching -The  Fra 
ternity  407-436 

CHAPTER  XV. 

His  Influence :  shown  by  Various  Letters — From  the  West — From  England  and 
Germany— To  H.  A.  W.— Patience  Ford— John  Brown,  the  Blacksmith — 
To  Miss  Cobbe— From  Mr.  Buckle  and  Professor  Gervinus  .  .  ;  .  .437-479 


ILLU8TBATIONS    TO    VOL.    I. 


PAGE 

A  PORTRAIT,  from  a  Photograph  of  1846,  JE.  36  years,  Engraved  on  Steel  by 
Henry  Adlard  .        .      .  .        .  .         .        «        ,       To  face  Title. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON,  APRIL  19in,  1775         .       '.        .        .        ;'•  16 

THE  HOMESTEAD     .        .        ,        .        .  •        •        •        .        .        .26 

THE  DOUBLE-HEADED  PINE  TREE  AT  LEXINGTON       .        ,        .        . '       .  to  face  28 

THE  LEDGE    .        .        ..."  .    ••/ 48 

HOUSE  OP  MRS.  BROAD,  AND  SCHOOL-HOUSE      ' .88 

VILLAGE  MEETING-HOUSE,  SPRING  STREET,  WEST  ROXBURY 89 

THE  PARSONAGE      .        .....        .        •        .-.        •        .        •        .     159 

MR.  GK    R.  RUSSELL'S  HOUSE 199 

GARDEN  BRIDGE      .    .    .    ^  *        •        .        •        .        .        •        ,        .        .    220 

APPLE-TREE  AND  BENCH 282 

THE  ROCKS     .        .        .        .        •        •      V       .        •        .        •        .        .283 

THE  WHITE  OAK    .        .        .        .       .        .        .       »       .       .        .        .313 

THE  Music  HALL V      •        •        •        •        .407 


LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE 


THEODOEE    PARKER. 


CHAPTER   L 

Ancestors  and  Family. — Thomas  Parker,  of  Browsholme,  1609. — Emigrates,  1635. — 
Jonathan,  1680.— Hananiah,  at  Port  Royal,  1710. — Benj.  Stearns  and  Hannah 
Seger,  1754. — Capt.  John  Parker,  April  19,  1775. — John  Parker  and  Hannah 
Stearns. — Theodore  Parker,  Aug.  24,  1810. 

IT  is  surprising  to  find  how  many  farmers  of  Eastern  Massa 
chusetts  can  still  trace  their  lineage  directly  back  to  ship-board, 
whence  their  ancestors  descended  to  possess  the  new  soil.  These 
sturdy  men  draw  a  straight  furrow  across  two  hundred  years, 
but  the  waters  of  the  bay  obliterate  it,  and  its  course  can  be 
seldom  resumed  beyond.  Of  the  English  annals  of  the  Parker 
family,  only  a  few  disconnected  scraps  exist.  Names  and  places 
are  confused,  and  many  Parker  families  are  scattered  over  the 
kingdom.*  As  nearly  as  can  be  now  determined,  our  branch  of 
the  Parkers  came  from  the  parish  of  Browsholme,  in  the  county 
of  York,  and  this  family  appears  respectable  and  nourishing  early 
in  the  sixteenth  century.  A  coat  of  arms,  profusely  blazoning 
leopards'  heads,  stars,  and  a  stag  pierced  by  an  arrow  for  a  crest, 

*  The  name  is  as  old  as  the  word  Parcarius,  park-keeper  or  shepherd ;  Parcus  meant 
a  picketed  enclosure  for  domestic  animals,  and  also  a  preserve  for  game.  Parcarius  and 
De  Parco  are  mentioned  in  Doomsday  Book.  They  are  found  in  "  Liber  Feudorum," 
and  one  Samuel  Parker  is  noted  in  the  reigns  of  Henry  III.  and  Edward  I.  A  James  le 
Parker  turns  up  in  Norwich  in  1261  ;  the  "  Taxatio  Ecclesiastica  "  yields  the  name,  and 
we  find  the  following  in  mediaeval  Latinity  of  1205:  "Johannes  le  Parker  tenet  dimid. 
hidam  terrae,  per  servantiam  custodiendi  Parcum  Domini  Regis  et  Riesam  forinsicum  et 
valet  hoc  annum  dimidiam  marcam " :  John  the  Parker  holds  half  a  hide  of  land  for 
the  service  (sergeantry)  of  keeping  the  King's  park  and  pasture -ground,  and  receives 
this  year  half  a  mark.  Fifty  acres,  and  6*.  8d.  per  annum  for  folding  the  royal  sheep  and 
driving  them  to  pasture. 

2 


2  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

has  the  motto  Semper  aude,  which  many  of  the  descendants  did 
their  best  to  vindicate.  Our  business  begins  with  Thomas 
Parker,  who  brought  over  the  spirit  which  earned  a  better 
blazon  than  the  family  arms  which  were  afterwards  discovered 
for  his  descendants.  The  name  occurs  so  often  among  the 
enemies  of  the  Church  of  England,  that  we  may  suppose  Thomas 
had  very  good  Puritan  reasons  for  his  emigration.  Many 
Quakers  and  two  non-conforming  clergymen,  bear  the  name.  A 
Rev.  Thomas  Parker,  of  Newbury,  brought  over  a  company  from 
Wiltshire,  and  settled  Newbury  and  Newburyport. 

Thomas  Parker  came  over,  in  1635,  in  a  vessel  fitted  out  by 
Sir  Richard  Saltonstall,  who  was  then  in  London.  There  was 
some  connection  between  the  Parkers  of  Browsholme  *  and  the 
Sir  Richard  Saltonstall  who  was  Lord  Mayor  of  London  in 
1597.  Thomas  Parker  settled  at  Lynn,  and  he  was  made  free 
man  in  1637.  In  the  division  of  the  town  among  its  early 
settlers,  forty  acres  of  land  were  allotted  to  him.  A  lineal  de 
scendant  occupied,  not  long  ago,  if  a  statement  made  by  Alonzo 
Lewis  be  correct,  the  old  homestead  which  has  been  in  the  family 
for  seven  generations.  It  is  now,  since  a  division  of  the  town 
ship,  in  Saugus,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  river,  about  eighty  rods 
below  the  Iron  Works.  Thomas  removed  to  Reading  in  1640, 
and  was  one  of  seven  who  founded  the  first  church  of  Reading, 
of  which  he  was  a  deacon  in  164)5.  Here  he  died,  August  12, 
1683,  having  been  the  father  of  six  sons  and  four  daughters. 
In  the  course  of  a  century  and  a  half,  many  of  the  stones  which 
marked  the  resting-places  of  these  early  settlers  had  crumbled 
away,  and  when  a  new  place  of  burial  was  opened,  the  town  let 
out  the  old  place  as  a  mowing  lot.  The  lessor  was  bound  not  to 
swing  his  scythe  beyond  the  line  marked  by  a  few  grave 
stones,  already  half-buried  in  the  dust  which  they  professed  to 
celebrate.  The  scythe,  however,  slipped  gradually  over  the  whole 
ground,  and  the  thrifty  descendant  illustrated  scriptural  views  of 

*  Edward  Parker,  born  1602,  married  Mary,  daughter  of  Richard  Sunderland,  of 
Yorkshire,  whose  wife  was  Mary,  sixth  daughter  of  Sir  Richard  Saltonstall.  He  had  a 
coat  of  arms,  displaying  three  bucks'  heads  and  a  buck  for  the  crest,  with  the  motto, 
Nonfluctu  necflatu  movetur.  A  seal  engraved  with  this  motto  was  sometimes  used  by 
Mr.  Parker. 

There  is  a  Thomas  Parker  registered  by  Burke  as  belonging  to  this  family,  who  was 
a  son- of  John  Parker  of  Little  Norton  and  Jordenthorpe,  and  he  was  baptized  March  31, 
1609.  The  Thomas  Parker  who  emigrated  was  74  years  old  when  he  died  at  Reading  in 
1683.  This  age  refers  his  birth  to  1609.  This  is  the  only  coincidence  of  date  which  can 
be  discovered,  and  of  its  value  we  know  nothing. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  3 

mortality  through  the  grass  which  his  ancestors  were  nourishing. 
Hoc  est  vere  monumentum  patris  colere.  Later  still,  in  building 
a  Town-house,  where  it  was  supposed  no  graves  had  ever  existed, 
old  ones  were  broken  into  accidentally  ;  the  stones  thus  recovered 
were  piled  in  a  row  against  the  wall,  with  Thomas  Parker's  at 
the  head.  So  that  the  upright  and  sturdy  old  Puritan,  who 
began  life  in  America  with  forty  acres  in  Lynn,  ends  with  no 
thing  this  side  the  grave  except  the  fame  of  his  descendant.* 

In  the  Massachusetts  records  we  find  the  sumptuous  prefix  of 
Mr.  to  his  name  in  the  list  of  freemen  :  that  was  more  charily 
pronounced  in  1637  than  to-day.-)-  He  and  his  posterity  were 
flourishing  and  reliable  men  :  wherever  they  settled,  we  trace 
them  by  the  offices  they  filled,  the  claims  they  adjudged,  the 
boundaries  they  assisted  in  defining.  They  viewed  land, 
reviewed  the  militia,  and  were  lieutenants  and  captains  of  com- 
panics.  The  military  spirit  was  very  strong  among  them  in 
days  when  fighting  was  often  the  final  cause  of  training.  The 
"  dying  words  "  of  one  Jonathan  Parker,  a  discoloured  sheet, 
with  only  the  date  1680,  and  no  other  note  by  which  his  age  or 
work  in  this  life  can  be  fixed,  is  a  most  tender  and  God-fearing 
document.  He  had  passed  through  perils  of  the  field  in  K'ng 
Philip's  war :  perhaps  he  was  one  of  the  150  volunteers  under 
Turner,  or  one  of  Lathrop's  picked  company.  This  was  in 
1675—6  :  but  he  was  spared  to  die  at  home. 

Then  he  was  heard  to  say  that  he  desiered,  and  that  if  it  wear  the 
will  of  Grod,  that  this  cross  might  pass  from  him,  but  if  not  he  did 
desier  to  submit,  allso  he  desiered  that  God  would  soport  his  parents, 
and  make  them  wiling  to  submit,  if  he  must  dey,  that  G-od  would  be 
pleased  to  make  his  pasing  easy  into  glory,  and  if  that  he  did  dey  he 
hopt  to  go  to  a  heavenly  Father. 

He  did  entreate  his  father  and  mother  to  forgive  him  all  his  ofencis, 
telling  of  them  that  he  would  entreate  them  to  submit  to  the  will  of 

*  From  his  grave-stone,  as  it  stood  in  the  yard  of  the  Centre  School-house,  South 
Reading,  this  epitaph  was  transcribed: — 

Memento  Mori  ! 

Fugit  Hora  ! 

Here  lyeth  within 

This  sacred  place 

The  body  of  Deacon 

Thomas  Parker 

who  was  won  of 

the  foundation  of 

the  church,  who  dyed 

ye  12  of  August, 
1683,  aged  about  74. 
t  Palfrey's  New  England,  II.  67. 


4  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

G-od.  In  parting  with  them,  saying  that  he  had  cometted  his  case  to 
God,  and  if  it  may  make  most  for  Grod's  glory  and  youer  comfort,  I 
desier  to  live,  if  not  I  am  willing  to  dey. 

Being  asked  if  he  wars  not  afraid  o'f  deth,  he  sayed  noe,  for  Christ 
had  taken  away  the  sting  of  deth,  tho  Sathon  had  a  thrust  at  him  to 
make  him  fall,  but  he  said  he  had  no  foothould,  and  had  not  yet  pre 
vailed,  and  he  hopt  that  he  never  should,  for  he  was  a  coward.  Then 
his  mother  said  that  it  was  a  great  merci  that  G-od  did  coop  him  in  the 
sins  of  the  wars  and  brought  him  home  to  die  by  his  parents — there 
was  notice  taken  of  him  that  he  prayed,  for  had  nothing  els  to  do — he 
did  desier  to  be  remembred  to  his  two  sisters,  and  tell  them  that  if  they 
do  see  him  no  more,  they  should  not  see  him  sinn. 

This  Jonathan  belonged  to  the  family  before  its  removal  to 
Lexington,  which  was  then  called  Cambridge  Farms.  John,  a 
grandson  of  Thomas,  left  Reading  in  1710,  carrying  with  him 
all  his  children  and  grandchildren  but  Hananiah.  This  one,  a  son 
of  John,  junior,  had  already  enlisted  in  the  Massachusetts  Regi 
ment,  which  shared  in  the  various  operations  against  Port  Royal 
from  1707  to  1710.  A  letter  of  his  is  preserved,  dated  March 
8th,  1708,  from  Annapolis  Royal;  for  the  soldiers  in  the  camp 
before  that  place  already  called  it  by  the  name  which  it  received 
after  its  capture,  in  honour  of  Queen  Anne.  Passages  from  this 
letter,  showing  his  grave  and  virtuous  bringing-up,  are  worth 
transcribing.  Grahame  *  speaks  of  the  great  sickness  and  mor 
tality  among  the  troops.  Hananiah's  spelling  is  more  than 
obsolete,  but  here  it  is  as  he  penned  it  in  the  wet  trenches,  the 
Yankee  spelling  and  disposition  for  1708  : — 

Honored  Father  and  Mother, — After  my  Deuty  Remembered  to 
you  and  to  my  Grandfather  and  Grandmother,  and  my  love  to  my 
brothers  and  all  my  friends.  Hoping  theas  few  lines  of  my  Love  Will 
find  you  in  as  Good  health  as  I  am  at  this  present  Writting,  Blessed 
be  god  for  it.  And  this  is  to  let  you  understand  that  i  Receaved  youer 
Second  letter,  and  that  it  is  a  werey  sickly  time  with  us,  and  we  have 
Lost  above  Three  scor  men  that  belong  to  New  England.  Sr.  Chariest 
has  lost  11  men  out  of  his  Redgement.  Coronal  Whiting  has  lost  16 
or  17  and  he  has  24  men  sick.  One  man  Dyed  out  of  our  Company  :  he 
belonged  to  Wobone,  his  name  was  Robert  Peirce.  But  we  hope  to 
see  you  in  a  litle  time,  they  that  are  living,  but  if  we  stay  hear  much 
Longer  thair  will  but  few  of  us  se  New  England,  but  Sr.  Charles  saies 
he  will  'cary  us  home  as-  soon  as  ye  govenor  corns  :  we  hope  to  see  you 

*  History  of  the  United  States,  III.,  39-43. 

f  Four  regiments  were  raised  in  New  England,  two  of  which  were  commanded  by  Sir 
Charles  Hobby  and  Colonel  Tailer,  of  Massachusetts. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  5 

in  a  month  or  six  weaks,  if  we  live — for  Sr.  Charles  is  a  wearey  of  this 
place  and  amost  Discouraged,  and  wants  to  git  home  as  much  as 
we  do. 

Out  of  all  New  England  men  thair  is  but  about  40  men  fit  for 
Deuty,  and  thair  is  hardly  men  enough  to  berrey  ye  dead  and  look  after 
ye  sick,  for  we  berrey  2  or  3  men  everey  Night :  for  we  berrey  them  in 
night  becaus  ye  french  Should  not  know  how  many  men  we  loos,  and 
we  berrey  them  out  of  the  buring  place  down  by  ye  water  side  below 
ye  fort  and  spread  ye  ground  leavel  over  them  that  they  might  not  be 
seen. 

But  i  desire  youer  prayers  for  me  that  i  may  be  kept  from  sin  and 
sickness,  beaing  in  a  dangerous  place  for  them  both :  for  thair  is 
nothing  but  wickedness  carried  on  hear,  cursing  and  swearing  for  every 
man's  mouth. 

We  hear  that  thair  is  men  a  coming  from  New  York  to  Eeleaive  us. 
But  No  mor  At  Present,  for  i  have  No  News  to  send  you.  So  i 

Remain  your  Deutyfull  Son. 


Hananiah  was  eighteen  when  he  wrote  this  letter.  We  fancy 
him  eager  to  return  that  he  might  share  in  the  family  removal 
to  Lexington ;  and  the  father  was  longing  to  recover  so  much 
helpful  muscle  from  the  barren  trenches,  to  plant  the  fresh  acres, 
and  bring  in  wood  for  that  new  hearth  which  blazed  afterward 
so  clear  for  freedom.  But  he  was  kept  in  garrison  at  Port 
Royal  after  the  capitulation,  and  died  there  of  the  prevailing 
sickness,  sometime  during  1711. 

The  rest  of  the  family  (nine  children),  one  or  more  of  whom 
were  married,  went  with  the  father  to  Lexington  in  1710, 
leaving  many  of  the  name  in  Reading,  whence  they  went  to 
settle  in  various  neighbouring  towns.  A  Nathaniel  had  fourteen 
children ;  Bethiah,  the  mother  of  these,  was  ninety  when  she 
died.  Each  generation  lost  many  children ;  but  also  reared 
many,  who  were  strong  and  prolific,  cleared  many  a  good  acre, 
and  ploughed  sinew  into  the  soil  of  the  coming  commonwealth. 
They  lived  long  and  well,  loved  peace,  and  abated  rural  acri 
monies  ;  but  always,  from  the  time  of  landing,  kept  a  musket 
for  the  frontier,  against  Pequod,  King  Philip,  French,  and  Ojib- 
ways ;  they  never  shrunk  from  pain  nor  fainted  at  the  inevitable 
blood-lettings  of  discomposed  times,  and  always  made  a  solemn 
business  of  militia  drill,  as  old  family  almanacs  and  account 
books  attest,  in  ^  hich  the  phrases  of  field  manoeuvres  and  words 
of  command  alternate  with  the  price  of  hay  and  lumber  and  the 
settlement  of  a  neighbour's  bill.  Take,  for  instance,  this  speci- 


6  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

men,  from  "  Josiah  Parker's  book,  1738,"  of  the  terms  used  in 
the  manual  by  all  the  fighting  men  of  Lexington :  — 

Joyne  your  right  hand  to  your  F.* 

Present  your  F. 

Best  your  F. 

Cock  your  F. 

Present — fire. 

Recover  your  F. 

Half-cock  your  F. 

Handel  your  primer. 

Prime. 

Shut  your  Pan. 

Cast  about  to  charge. 

Handel  your  carthrige. 

Open  your  carthrige. 

Charge  with  carthrige. 

Draw  your  rammers. 

Shorten  your  rammers. 

Put  them  in  the  barrels. 

Ram  down  your  carthrige. 

"With-draw  your  rammers. 

Shorten  your  rammers. 

Return  your  rammers. 

Cast  off  your  F. 

Tour  right  hand  under  the  lock. 

Poise  your  F. 

Shoulder  your  F. 

Best  your  F. 

Ground  your  F. 

Take  up  your  F. 

Rest  your  F. 

Club  your  F. 

Rest  your  F. 

Secure  your  F. 

Shoulder  your  F. 

May  ye  first,  1744. 

Then  setled  ye  Dignity  of  Officers  in  Colonol  Phip's  Ridgement. 
Captains.  Lieutenants. 

,    c i    n  John  Tainter. 

1.  Saml.  Green.  gaml  Hen% 

2.  Benj.  Reed.  Josiah  Parker. 

3.  Saml.  Livermore.  John  Baal. 

4.  Capt.  Hayes.  Thorn.  Symms. 
6.  Capt.  Codman.  Win.  Hide. 

6.  Capt.  Fuller.  Jos.  Bryant. 

7.  Capt.  Kendrick.  Robert  Mardock. 

8.  Capt.  Brooks.  Benj.  Blany. 

9.  Capt.  Dana.  Stephen  Hall. 

*  In  the  corner  of  the  page  is  -written,  "N.B. — that  F.  stands  for  firelock." 


THEODORE  PARKER.  7 

And  here  is  a  note  made  by  some  painstaking  captain,  ambi 
tious  of  perfecting  his  company  drill : — 

Eeare  half  files,  double  the  depth  of  your  right  flank.  Left  half  files 
of  left  flank  face  to  the  left  about.  Front  half  files  of  left  flank  face 
to  the  left.  Reare  half  files  of  right  flank  face  to  the  right — march  10 
paces — the  whole  face  to  the  right — march  10  paces — face  to  the  right. 

Such  matter  as  this  lies  confusedly  mixed  with  charges  made 
for  mechanical  labour  and  farm  produce  ;  for  tbe  Parkers  knew 
how  to  wield  a  good  many  kinds  of  tools  : — 

1752.  To  a  harrow  and  exeltreeing  your  cart — to  mending  your 
Cyder-mill — to  a  chees  mill — to  making  3  keelers  and  a  churn — to 
making  a  coffin — to  3  days  and  ^  work  Stoning  your  Seller — to  3  Doz. 
of  Cornpas  boxes — 6  pair  of  Bed  Screws  at  £7  10s.  a  pair  old  tenor — 
to  a  beetel  and  how  handel  and  sithe  sneth — to  my  oxen  to  Cambridge 
and  3  Cartouch  boxes — to  whetting  and  setting  your  hand-saw — to  my 
oxen  to  plough  in  your  Bie — to  shoeing  your  sled — to  making  your 
leading  staff — to  23  pound  of  Veal  at  15d.  per  Ib. — to  mending  your 
Chimney  back — to  Cutting  19  Ibs.  of  tobacco — to  a  tobacco  tub  and 
mending  a  brine  tub  lid. 

But  the  pens  which  noted  down  rather  laboriously  the  pro 
ceeds  of  meadow  and  garden  land,  and  the  number  of  planks 
'which  were  rafted  down  the  Mystic  for  ship-building,  have  left 
no  trace  of  the  early  sufferings  and  sorrows.  Hananiah's  home 
sickness  was,  I  fancy,  an  achievement  of  garrulity  uncommon  in 
the  family.  Like  all  tbe  pioneers  of  New  England,  they  minded 
their  business,  and  never  hinted  at  their  feelings.  Their  diary 
is  their  fair  and  lawful  portion  of  the  history  of  the  plantation 
as  it  stands  to  be  read  in  all  authentic  books. 

Reminiscences  of  military  life  and  border  suffering  came  also 
into  the  family  on  the  mother's  side  subsequent  to  1754,  when 
Hannah  Seger  was  married  to  Benjamin  Stearns,  of  Lexington. 
One  of  their  daughters  was  tbe  mother  of  Theodore  Parker.  His 
grandmother's  ancestor,  Thomas  Seger,  or  Seager,  came  to  Newbury 
before  1637.  The  descendants  seem  to  have  had  a  taste  for 
frontier  life.  Nathaniel,  of  uncertain  date,  was  one  of  the  earliest 
settlers  of  Bethel,  Maine  ;  the  Indians  carried  him  off  into  Canada, 
as  they  did  many  another  man  and  woman,  when  they  could 
surprise  them  in  the  fields,  driving  them  thence  through  the  deso 
late  gaps  in  the  White  Mountains,  to  make  a  bloody  trail  wbere 
now  the  summer  streams  of  fashion  and  invalidism  so  easily  flow. 


8  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

Nathaniel  had  a  very  hard  time  of  it,  which  he  must  needs  write 
about  afterwards.  Another  member  of  this  family  enlisted 
during  the  Eevolutionary  war,  was  a  sergeant  in  Capt.  Bryant's 
company  of  artillery,  and  went  through  many  an  engagement. 
His  captain  Jay  mortally  wounded  after  the  battle  of  Brandy- 
wine,  within  the  enemy's  lines,  whence  he  brought  him  away  by 
night  upon  a  litter,  with  two  or  three  comrades  helping,  though 
he,  too,  had  sustained  a  severe  wound  that  day.  Stories  of  the 
wilderness  and  of  battle  were  told  into  greedy  ears  at  the  winter 
firesides  of  the  Lexington  families. 

Toryism  did  not  flourish  among  the  descendants  of  Thomas 
Parker  of  Browsholme.  "  Semper  aude"  was  the  creed  of  five 
generations  of  them,  who  knew  small  Latin,  but  kept  alive  an 
instinct  for  supporting  the  weak  against  the  strong,  the  wronged 
against  the  wronger.  By-and-bye  the  doctrine  was  heard  from 
the  pulpit  of  Lexington  Green,  where  Jonas  Clark  made  sincere 
and  earnest  application  of  it,  not  to  judges,  tax-gatherers,  and 
governors,  who  were  groping  m  Sheol  some  time  before  the 
settlement  of  the  Old  Testament  canon,  but  to  flesh-and-blood 
Britishers  waiting  at  Boston  to  carry  Tory  mandates  up  the 
country.  Jonas  believed  in  preaching  directly  to  the  point,  in 
days  when  political  sermons  were  not  dictated  by  the  nice  dis 
tinction  constructed  for  the  benefit  of  the  Fugitive  Slave  Bill, 
that  the  oppressing  power,  in  '75,  resided  in  England  and  not  at 
Washington ;  they  were  inspired  by  the  plain  circumstance  that 
there  was  oppression  in  America.  Mayhew,  Clark,  and  other 
brave  pre-revolutionary  preachers,  did  not  withhold  their  word 
because  Tory  countrymen  sat  in  the  pews  and  helped  support 
the  minister.  A  divided  opinion,-  a  country  tardy  or  irresolute, 
a  prospect  of  irreconcileable  divisions,  were  so  many  arguments 
for  quickly  reinforcing  the  spirit  of  liberty  with  words  of  pro 
testing  truth.  This  they  did,  seeing  the  green  fields  beyond  the 
swelling  flood. 

The  plain  people  hungered  for  these  appeals,  and  their  repre 
sentatives  knew  how  to  use  the  great  influence  which  a  faithful 
pulpit  then  possessed.  Here  is  a  trace  of  it : — 

In  Provincial  Congress.     Watertown,  May  22,  1775. 

The  Congress  having  requested  the  Eev.  Dr.  Langdon  to  deliver  a 
sermon  before  the  next  Massachusetts  Congress,  at  their  meeting  in 
this  place,  on  the  last  Wednesday  of  this  month,  and  he  having  signified 
that  he  will  comply  with  such  request, 


THEODORE   PAEKEE. 

Resolved,  that  it  is  the  desire  of  the  Congress,  that  the  Beverend 
Ministers  of  the  Grospel  in  this  Colony  would  assemble  at  that  time, 
agreeable  to  their  ancient  custom,  and  hold  a  convention,  as  usual  (if 
they  think  proper)  ;  as,  in  the  opinion  of  this  Congress,  the  cause  of 
religion  and  the  political  interest  of  this  Colony  may  be  served  by  such 
meeting.* 

Old  Dr.  Byles,  of  Hollis  Street  Church,  was  singular  in  this 
respect,  as  in  many  others,  and  held  out  against  the  expressed 
desire  of  his  own  parish  that  he  would  consider  the  condition  of 
the  Colony  in  the  pulpit,  and  against  the  enthusiasm  of  all  of  his 
Congregational  brethren  in  Boston.  The  sermons  of  the  time 
abounded,  except  in  Western  Massachusetts,  with  eager  discussion 
of  public  affairs.  Clergymen  responded  to  invitations  to  preacb 
by  taking  the  popular  side,  not  in  veiled  generalities,  but  with 
the  plainest  exposition  of  the  doctrine  for  which  Massachusetts 
rose  in  arms.  "  If  it  be,"  said  one  of  them,-f-  "  in  the  nature  and 
reason  of  things  lawful  for  a  people  to  enjoy  their  lives,  liberty, 
and  property,  it  must  be  also,  in  the  same  nature  and  reason  of 
things,  lawful  to  preserve  them ;  for  to  suppose  a  right  to  them, 
and  no  right  to  preserve  or  defend  them,  is  manifestly  absurd." 

Treason  was  levied  in  these  terms  in  the  house  of  God  :  the 
commonwealth  sat  wakeful  in  the  high-backed  pews  of  the  old 
tireless  meeting-houses,  warmed  by  hearts  that  glowed  in  the 
pulpits,  feeling  Religion  place  the  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of 
Gideon  into  every  hand.  What  wonder  that  the  green  before 
the  church  became  wet  with  blood  !  What  wonder  that  the 
drops  sowed  heart's  love  for  liberty,  fresh  from  praise  and  prayer, 
in  the  spring  soil ! 

In  the  old  meeting-house  sat  Capt.  John  Parker  (born,  1729  ; 
died,  1775),  Jonathan  Harrington,  his  nephew,  and  fifer  of  his 
company,  and  Jonas  Parker,  who  fell  upon  the  Green.  Captain 
Parker  had  been  a  sergeant  in  the  French  war,  1749-59,  and 
was  at  the  taking  of  Quebec.  Jonas  Clark,  then  forty-five  years  of 
age,  had  for  some  time  discussed  the  successive  points  of  the  great 
controversy  as  it  became  developed.  He  drew  up  the  instruc- 

*  Find  the  sermon  itself  reprinted  in  J.  W.  Thornton's  "Pulpit  of  the  American 
Revolution,"  and  on  page  255,  the  following  note  :  "  Governor  Gage,  in  his  proclamation 
of  June  12,  1775,  a  few  days  after  Dr.  Langdon's  sermon  was  preached,  said  'To 
complete  the  horrid  profanation  of  terms  and  of  ideas,  the  name  of  God  has  been  intro 
duced  in  the  pulpits  to  excite  and  justify  devastation  and  massacre.' "  It  sounds  like  a 
modern  Tory  newspaper  denouncing  the  introduction  of  "exciting  topics"  into  the 
pulpit,  and  predicting  that  strife  will  be  stirred  up  by  the  ministers  of  a  Gospel  of  peace. 

t  Elisha  Fish,  minister  of  Upton,  preaching  at  the  invitation  of  the  Committee  of 
Correspondence  for  Worcester  County,  March  28,  1775 


10  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

tions  which  his  people  desired  to  have  presented  to  the  Provincial 
Legislature  by  their  delegate.  This  is  a  model  paper,  which 
simply  and  strongly  sets  forth  the  views  often  urged  before  in 
public  and  private  by  the  revolutionary  clergyman.  He  was 
more  dangerous  than  all  the  military  stores  at  Concord  or  in  the 
Colony,  and  had  so  infected  the  whole  district  with  his  calm  and 
deep  indignation,  that,  when  the  regulars  came  marching  up  the 
old  -turnpike  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the  ]  9th  of  April,  after  powder 
and  flour,  they  found  all  the  farmers  converted  to  a  doctrine  of 
liberty  which  armed  and  provisioned  a  young  nation  for  seven 
years  of  war.  In  the  meeting-house  and  town-house,  ringing  with 
Clark's  religious  convictions,  filled  with  his  enlightened  points 
and  improvement,  was  the  history  of  that  glorious  morning  slowly 
prepared. 

What  a  speech  it  gained  at  two  o'clock,  when  the  little  belfry- 
tower  opposite  his  meeting-house  rang  the  inhabitants  together 
for  the  action  which  had  been  foreshadowed  in  prayer  and  sermon  ! 
One  hundred  and  fifty  men  gathered  to  the  call,  and  waited 
quietly  for  the  reports  brought  in  by  riders  who  had  been  de 
spatched  a  few  miles  down  the  road.  The  pastor  was  there, 
encouraging  and  reminding  the  flock  that  the  opinions  which  they 
accepted  in  their  pews  must  be  advanced  upon  the  Green. 
About  one  of  the  clock,  their  captain,  John  Parker,  had  been 
summoned,  who  was  then  ill  with  troubles  which  grew,  by 
neglect  and  exposure,  into  the  disease  of  which  he  died  in  Sep 
tember  of  the  same  year.  He  resided  about  three  miles  from  the 
meeting-house.  Being  informed  "  that  there  were  a  number  of 
regular  officers  riding  up  and  down  the  road,  taking  and  insult 
ing  people/'*  he  issued  the  orders  which  assembled  his  company, 
and  hastened  to  his  minister's  side.  He  concluded  "not  to 
meddle  or  make  with  said  regular  troops,  unless  they  should  insult 
or  molest  us."  At  the  approach  of  this  body  of  regulars,  which 
was  900  strong,  he  formed  his  own  little  troop  of  70  men  into 
the  first  line  of  the  Revolution,  and  bade  them  charge  their 
pieces  with  powder  and  ball.  A  scattering  and  ineffective  fire 
was  their  response  to  the  three  volleys  which  the  British  deli 
vered  ;  after  this  he  told  them  to  disperse  and  take  care  of  them 
selves.  Fifteen  men  had  fallen;  seven  of  these  were  killed, 
including  Jonas  Parker,  "the  strongest  wrestler  in  Lexington, 
pierced  with  both  ball  and  bayonet."  The  men  dispersed  for  a 

*  Affidavit  of  Capt.  Parker,  April  23,  1775.     MS.  copy. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  11 

time,  to  join  in  a  few  hours  the  great  uprising  of  the  country, 
which  followed  the  regulars  to  Boston,  with  Jonas  Clark's  Sun 
day  doctrine  practically  administered  all  along  the  road. 

Captain  Parker  was  not  too  ill  to  engage  far  and  well  in  this 
pursuit.  He  was  also  at  the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  in  com 
mand  of  troops,  but  not  engaged.  The  King's  arm,  which  he 
took  from  a  grenadier  of  the  43rd  Regiment  (the  first  weapon 
captured  in  the  Revolution),  and  his  own  light  fowling-piece 
which  he  had  carried  at  Quebec,  stood  by  the  door  of  Theodore's 
study  in  Boston  till  the  executors  of  his  will  consigned  them  to 
the  keeping  of  the  State.  In  the  Senate  Chamber  they  hang,  and 
Massachusetts  still  yields  children  worthy  to  take  them  down 
who  have  not  degenerated  from  those  who  first  bore  arms  for  her. 
The  rusted  pattern  is  still  symbolical  of  the  old  spirit  tried  again 
in  the  same  old  cause,  whose  minute-men  are  again  first  in  the 
field,  and  have  drawn  the  first  shot  upon  the  same  April  date.* 
Jonas  Clark  and  Theodore  Parker  are  in  array  against  a  tyranny 
whose  forms  are  various,  but  whose  intention  is  evermore  the 
same. 

This  letter,  addressed  to  Mr.  Bancroft,  after  the  publication  of 
the  seventh  volume  of  his  History,  contains  some  interesting 
notices : — 

Boston,  10th  September,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  BANCROFT, — Last  May  came  your  beautiful  volume  on  the 
Revolution.  I  was  ill,  and  yet  obliged  to  work.  I  read  it  with  enthu 
siasm  in  the  pauses  of  my  toil.  It  ran  into  the  night,  and  wras  soon  in 
my  head.  I  rejoice  in  it  greatly.  You  confirm  my  suspicions  that 
George  III. — miserable  old  wooden-head ! — was  the  real  cause  of  the 
mischief.  But  you  shed  a  deal  of  light  I  had  no  suspicion  of  on  many 
matters ;  of  course  you  do.  It  is  thoroughly  democratic,  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word.  This  volume  has  more  of  the  Life  of  the  People  in 
it  than  any  of  the  last  three.  It  seems  to  me  history  has  been  hitherto 
the  life  of  kings,  priests,  nobles,  soldiers,  and  the  like — not  the  Life  of 
the  Million,  as  it  should  be.  "  Les  gens  des  salons  partout  se  ressem- 
blent"  but  the  people  are  every  where  different.  I  am  glad  to  find  a 
historian  who  cares  for  "  the  rest  of  mankind." 

One  fact  or  two  let  me  give.  At  the  battle  of  Lexington,  when 
Capt.  P.  drew  up  his  men  as  the  British  were  nearing,  he  ordered 
"  every  man  to  load  "  his  piece  with  powder  and  ball.  "  Don't  fire 
unless  fired  upon  ;  but  if  they  mean  to  have  a  war,  let  it  begin  here!" 
I  think  these  significant  words  ought  to  be  preserved.  They  were  kept 
as  the  family  tradition  of  the  day,  and  when  the  battle  was  re»-enacted 

*  Written  just  after  the  Massachusetts  three-months  men  had  passed  through  Balti 
more,  April,  1861. 


12  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

in  1820  (or  thereabout),  his  orderly  sergeant  took  the  Captain's  place, 
and  repeated  the  words,  adding,  "  For  them  is  the  very  words  Captain 
Parker  said."  Besides,  some  of  the  soldiers,  when  they  saw  the  flash 
of  the  British  guns,  turned  to  run :  he  drew  his  sword,  and  said,  "  I 
will  order  the  first  man  shot  that  offers  to  run !"  Nobody  ran  till  he 
told  them,  "  Disperse,  and  take  care  of  yourselves."  Prince  Estabrook, 
who  was  killed  at  the  second  fire,  was  a  negro* 

Thankfully  yours, 

THEODOEE  PABKER. 

And  here  is  an  extract  from  Mr.  Parker's  journal,  written  on 
occasion  of  a  visit  to  Lexington  to  attend  the  ordination  of  Jason 
Whitman.  The  Jonathan  Harrington  herein  mentioned  was  the 
grandfather  of  John  W.  Harrington,  master's  mate  of  the  Cum 
berland,  who  was  killed  during  the  fight  with  the  Merrimac  in 
Hampton  "Roads  : — 

Jonathan  Harrington  was  a  fifer  in  my  grandfather's  company,  and 
is  the  last  survivor  (1845),  now  87  years  old.  He  was  then  in  his  17th 
year.  I  asked  him  how  he  felt  as  he  marched  on  to  the  spot.  He  said 
he  felt  well  enough  then  ;  but  when  they  saw  the  reg'lars  march  up,  he 
felt  kind  o'  queer.  Some  offered  to  run  away,  but  Captain  Parker  drew 
his  sword,  and  said  he  would  run  through  the  first  man  that  offered  to 
run  away.  He  said  Captain  P.  looked  as  if  he  could  face  anything,  and 
so  he  could.  He  was  a  large-boned  man  ;  his  face  longer  than  my  father's, 
but  in  other  respects  built  like  mine  («'.  c.,  stout,  a  stocky  man.)  His 
(Jonathan's)  uncle,  Wm.  Munro,  had  been  out  in  the  Trench  war.  He 
showed  me  a  pistol  that  belonged  to  him,  and  which  he  used  there. 
Jonathan  H.  was  in  the  American  service  at  Prospect  Hill,  as  one  cf 
the  guard  of  Burgoyne's  troops,  but  never  had  a  pension.  His  father 
(Uncle  Harrington)  dealt  in  ship  timber.  He  often  had  trains  of  it 
that  reached  more  than  half  a  mile,  and  great  quantities  at  his  bank 
(depot)  in  "West  Cambridge,  whence  he  rafted  it  to  Boston  down  the 
Mystic  River.  He  was  a  patriot,  but  the  Revolution  ruined  his  busi 
ness,  and  "  kind  o'  broke  it  up."  He  lost  great  quantities  of  timber  ; 
the  British  plundered  his  house  at  the  battle — carried  off  his  clock, 
leaving  the  weights  and  the  case  ;  the  pendulum  was  afterwards  found 
dropped  in  the  fields  half  a  mile  off,  &c.  Jonathan  then  went  to 
school  to  Mr.  Pitt  Clark,  "  a  pretty  man."  He  taught  on  the  Common. 
Jonathan  .studied  Latin,  but  the  soldiers  took  away  his  Latin  books- 
all  of  them  but  the  dictionary,  which  he  still  keeps  (Young's  Dic 
tionary).  He  went  to  school  no  more.  He  would,  perhaps,  have  gone 

*  This  is  a  mistake,  according  to  information  kindly  furnished  by  Hon.  Charles 
Hudson,  who  is  preparing  a  history  of  Lexington.  He  was  wounded,  but  recovered  and 
served  in  almost  every  campaign  of  the  war.  "He  is  represented,  by  those  who  knew 
him,  as  a  fine  specimen  of  a  man,  tall,  well-built,  and  muscular,  having  a  carriage  which 
fully  justified  the  name  of  Prince."  Estabrook  was  his  master's  name.  He,  with  other 
negroes  who  served  in  the  Revolution,  obtained  his  freedom  as  a  reward  for  military 
service ;  but  it  was  also  secured  to  them  by  the  Constitution  of  1780,  which  entirely 
abolished  slavery. 


THEODORE  PAKKER.  13 

to  college  but  for  this.     He  remembers  my  grandfather  as  well  as  if  he 
saw  him  now  before  his  eyes. 

John,  Theodore's  father,  was  born  Feb.  14,  1761,  and  mar 
ried  Hannah  Stearns,  a  daughter  of  Benjamin  Stearns  of  Lex 
ington  and  Hannah  Seger.  He  was«more  of  a  mechanic  than  a 
farmer,  and  during  his  life  the  farm  was  mainly  carried  on  by  the 
boys,  while  he  worked  in  the  little  shop  just  above  the  house, 
making  and  mending  wheels,  pumps,  and  farming-gear.  He 
taught  his  children  the  use  of  tools,  and  Theodore  became 
very  handy  with  them.  The  cradle  which  he  made  (while 
he  was  preparing  for  college),  for  his  sister-in-law's  first 
child,  is  solid  and  shapely.  He  learned  to  hoop  barrels 
and  mend  the  plough.  But  his  father  was  a  great  reader 
also,  and  thus  many  a  book  found  its  way  into  the  house,  bor 
rowed  of  friends  or  hired  from  the  little  circulating  library  upon 
the  Green,  which  Theodore  would  not  have  otherwise  obtained  ; 
they  filled  the  long  evenings,  when  all  the  children  gathered 
around  the  table,  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  the  father  read,  some 
times  aloud,  when  a  passage  pleased  him,  till  eight  o'clock  struck, 
and  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  dismissed  them  to  bed. 

We  gather  from  some  rude  notes  which  Mr.  Parker  made 
concerning  his  father,  that  he  was  a  stout  and  able-bodied  man, 
"  uncommon  strong,"  very  ingenious  and  industrious.  He  had 
studied  algebra  and  geometry,  was  particularly  fond  of  mathe 
matics,  and  was  "  great  at  figures."  He  was  a  good  talker,  and 
might  have  been  an  orator.  If  he  ever  got  into  an  argument, 
which  was  seldom,  as  controversy  did  not  suit  him,  he  was  very 
effective.  He  liked  metaphysics,  psychology,  and  all  depart 
ments  of  intellectual  and  moral  philosophy,  and  he  had  read 
all  the  English  books  upon  philosophy.  "  He  was  a  great 
reader,  rising  before  day  in  the  winter  to^  study,  sleeping  but 
about  five  hours ;  nice  and  acute  in  metaphysical  analysis,  jovial 
and  funny/'  but  not  so  exuberantly  mirthful  as  Theodore  was, 
nor  so  grotesque  in  his  fun.  He  was  well-mannered  ;  no  clown- 
ishness,  profanity,  or  indecency  marred  his  humour.  In  religious 
matters  he  thought  for  himself,  and  hated  Paley  and  Jonathan 
Edwards.  "  Paley  left  us  no  conscience,""  he  used  to  say.  He 
did  not  believe  in  eternal  damnation,  nor  in  the  more  extrava 
gant  of  the  miracles  in  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  but  he  was 
a  great  reader  of  the  Bible,  and  taught  the  younger  children  the 


14  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

ten  commandments  every  Sabbath  evening,  and  Sunday  prayers 
and  hymns. 

"He  did  not  like  poetry,  but  read  Pope,  Dryden,  Milton, 
Shakspeare,  Trumbull,  Peter  Pindar.,  and  Abraham  Cowley.  In 
the  later  years  of  his  life  he  was  fond  of  novels/' 

In  theology  he  was  a  iTnitarian,  in  politics  one  of  the  five 
Federalists  in  Lexington.  "  He  was  eminently  just  and  mag 
nanimous,  fearless  in  the  expression  of  opinion,  often  arbitrated 
in  quarrels,  was  guardian  of  widows,  orphans,  &c.,  and  adminis 
tered  estates,  for  there  was  no  lawyer  in  town.  He  was  not 
thrifty,  and  so,  not  rich.  Devoted  to  education,"  he  took  great 
interest  in  the  common  schools,  and  was  influential  in  bringing 
into  them  a  better  breed  of  teachers.  He  took  great  pains  with 
the  intellectual  and  moral  culture  of  his  children. 

Mr.  Parker  described  his  mother  as  "a  handsome  woman, 
delicate  and  slightly  built,  industrious,  thrifty,  charitable  to  the 
poor/'  She  was  fond  of  hearing  the  father  read  aloud  while 
she  sewed.  She  loved  ballads  and  popular  tales,  could  repeat  a 
great  many  of  them,  and  had  her  favourites  among  the  hymns. 
She  knew  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  thoroughly,  "  was  ima 
ginative,  delicate-minded,  poetic,  yet  a  very  practical  woman ; 
far-sighted,  and  so  nice  in  her  perceptions  and  judgments  that  it 
used  to  startle  me  sometimes  in  the  body,  and  does  now  as  I 
think  of  it.  She  took  great  pains  with  the  religious  training  of 
her  children,  but  cared  little  for  doctrines  ;  no  bigotry,  no  cant, 
no  fear.  Religion  was  love  and  good  works.  She  had  what  I  call 
piety,  the  ideal  part  of  religion,  love  of  God  as  well  as  morality/' 
She  had  a  critical  eye  to  the  religious  reading  of  her  household, 
and  not  much  bigoted  literature  was  allowed. 

Her  manners  were  grave  and  gentle,  not  hard,  but  touched,  I 
surmise,  with  the  old  Puritan  state,  which  made  the  frank  blue 
eyes  sometimes  austere.  She  had  a  lofty  soul ;  conscience  and 
piety  kept  it  both  unbending  and  tender.  The  conscience 
beamed  full,  as  the  sun  at  eastern  windows,  and  pervaded  all  the 
life  of  the  house.  Nothing  could  lay  shadowy,  yet  a  mellow 
warmth  fell  everywhere  with  its  exacting  light. 

The  phrases  of  religion  had  not  tampered  much  with  her 
heart :  her  spiritual  sense  knew  to  perceive  the  things  appro 
priate  to  it,  and  it  never  occurred  to  her  to  question  the  souFs 
capacity  for  this  immediate  perception,  or  to  be  content  with  its 
mental  and  social  simulations.  Before  her  children  she  was  not 


THEODORE   PARKER.  15 

eager  to  explain  or  refute,  and  never  tried  to  skim  her  religious 
life  for  their  luncheon  and  nooning.  The  young  minds  breathed 
unconsciously  her  mountain  air  of  trust  and  reverence.  In  this 
influence  of  a  fine  soul  Theodore  became  filled  with  piety  at  a 
very  early  age  ;  he  throve  as  much  under  her  reticence  as  he  did 
in  her  timely  speech  :  for  he  learned  few  religious  terms,  and  no 
formal  habits.  So  buds  seem  aimlessly  to  unfold,  while  Nature 
really  makes  a  point  of  soliciting  each  in  her  private  and  un 
announced  way. 

When  the  children  took  their  light  and  went  to  bed,  the  day 
had  still  one  grace  in  store  for  them,  as  they  listened  till  their 
mother  came  up  to  see  that  they  were  well  tucked  in,  and  to 
share  the  sweetness  of  their  homely  prayers. 

Theodore  learned  many  a  nice  moral  distinction  from  this 
clear-judging  mother.  Her  position  in  the  world  was  whole 
some  ;  her  intelligence  shared  the  fair  country,  chance  of  every 
thing  that  grew  on  the  farm.  Popular  views  of  life  and  man 
ners  were  within  sight,  but  too  far  to  become  familiar.  The 
father's  thirst  for  knowledge  and  the  mother's  spiritual  longing 
were  satisfied  in  unconventional  ways.  And  the  children,  in 
acquiring  this  independence,  found  faith  and  earnestness  besides  ; 
for  to  live  in  the  country  is  not  merely  to  riot  in  freedom  from 
the  constraints  of  the  town,  but  to  obey  nature's  simple  regu 
larity,  which  always  surprises  and  stimulates.  This  was  the 
health  which  Theodore  brought  at  last  to  Boston  from  those 
inland  acres.  His  tribute  to  the  mother  of  a  great  New- 
Englander  can  now  be  paid  also  to  his  own.  "  When  virtue 
leaps  high  in  the  public  fountain,  you  seek  for  the  lofty  spring 
of  nobleness,  and  find  it  far  off  in  the  dear  breast  of  some 
mother,  who  melted  the  snows  of  winter,  and  condensed  the 
summers  dew  into  fair,  sweet  humanity,  which  now  gladdens  the 
face  of  man  in  all  the  city  streets/'  * 

Theodore  was  the  youngest  of  eleven  children.  He  was  born 
August  24,  1810,  when  his  father  was  over  50  and  his  mother 
was  47  years  old.  Sweet  and  sound  is  the  last  apple,  ripen 
ing  high  up  in  the  tree,  through  the  late  golden  days,  discovered 
after  the  leaves  begin  to  fall. 

*  Discourse  on  Daniel  Webster. 


16 


LIFE    OF   THEODORE    PARKER. 


[The  Battle  of  Lexington  was  preceded  by  the  famous  midnight  ride 
of  Paul  Revere,  who  escaped  from  Boston  and  warned  the  towns  as 
far  as  Concord.  While  these  sheets  are  passing  through  the  press, 
the  news  comes  that  his  grandson,  Col.  Paul  Joseph  Revere,  of  the 
20th  Massachusetts  Eegiment,  died  on  July  4th  (1863)  of  wounds 
received  while  leading  his  command  at  the  Battle  of  Gettysburg,  which 
was  fought  the  day  before. 

The  little  Belfry,  to  which  allusion  is  made  later,  in  connection  with 
the  homestead  of  Mr.  Parker,  stands  on  the  right  of  the  Meeting 
house.] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LEXINGTON,  APRIL  l9lH,  1775. 


CHAPTER  H. 

Autobiography— Childhood — From  Birth  till  the  age  of  Eight. 

A  FKAGMENT  of  an  Autobiography,  which  was  commenced  at 
Koine,  is  printed  here  in  its  original  condition,  except  that  a 
few  pages  of  botanical  matter  have  been  corrected  and  arranged 
by  Rev.  John  L.  Russell,  of  Salem,  in  conformity  with  a  request 
transmitted  by  Mr.  Parker  to  his  old  friend.  When  he  found 
that  he  could  write  no  more,  he  closed  the  manuscript  with  a 
caveat  to  the  reader,  which  is  here  transferred  to  the  com 
mencement. 

N.B.  Caveat  Lector. — This  will  require  careful  re-writing,  and,  as  it 
stands,  may  contain  many  errors  of  detail,*  for  I  write  it  when  too  ill 
to  read,  and  with  no  memoranda  to  aid  me.  I  should  like  to  consult 
the  deeds  of  the  early  settlers  in  my  neighbourhood,  to  learn  the 
original  ownership  of  land,  the  date  of  the  houses,  and  the  names  of 
places  like  "  the  great  meadow."  Few  men,  if  any,  now  living  will 
remember  the  name,  but  I  have  found  it  in  old  deeds. 

I  began  this  at  Rome,  March  16th,  1860.  It  is  not  likely  I  shah1 
get  far  in  it.  I  have  waited  more  than  a  year  for  strength  to  begin  it, 
and  now  commence  at  my  weakest  point. 

The  material  and  human  circumstances  about  a  man  in  his  early  life 
have  a  strong  and  abiding  influence  upon  all,  especially  on  those  of  a 
sensitive  disposition,  who  are  both  easily  affected  by  such  externals  and 
rather  obstinate  iu  retaining  the  impression  made  on  them. 

OF  THE  MATERIAL  SUEEOUNDINGS. 

About  1710,  my  grandfather's  grandfather,  John  Parker,  then  some 
what  advanced  in  life,  with  a  part  of  his  grown-up  children,  removed 
from  Reading,  where  a  family  of  Parkers  had  settled  about  1640,  to 
the  Cambridge  Farms,  since  called  Lexington,  where  he  had  bought  a 
considerable  quantity  of  land,  with  one  small  house  upon  it,  probably 
of  logs.  The  next  year  he  built  him  a  large  and  commodious  house, 
and  furnished  it  with  the  usual  out-buildings  necessary  for  a  farmer's 
business.  The  situation  was  pleasant ;  a  considerable  valley  a  mile 
or  more  in  length  aud  half  a  mile  wide,  with  a  fresh  meadow  at  the 

*  Much  may  be  omitted  that  he  would  have  noted  under  favourable  circumstances, 
but  all  blanks  have  been  filled,  and  only  one  or  two  errors  of  commission  needed 
attention.  This  Autobiography  was  commenced  by  Mr.  Parker  with  the  object  of  en 
trusting  it,  when  finished,  to  his  friend  Mr.  Lyman,  to  be  used  by  him  some  day :  the 
fragment,  accordingly,  was  sent  to  him. 

3 


18  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

bottom,  called  in  deeds  of  the  time  "the  great  meadow,"  wound  among 
hills  tall  and  steep  on  the  western  and  northern  side,  while  on  the 
south  and  east  the  hills  were  of  less  height  and  more  gradual  in  their 
slope.  Indeed,  it  is  the  general  character  of  the  hills  in  that  part  of 
the  country  to  be  steep  on  their  southern  and  eastern  side,  and  of 
gradual  ascent  on  the  opposite  side.  A  brook  stole  through  the  valley 
or  percolated  through  the  soft,  spongy  meadow ;  following  a  continua 
tion  of  the  valley,  it  falls  into  Charles  Eiver  at  length.  The  stream 
was  then  much  larger  than  at  present ;  for  now  the  hills  have  nearly  all 
been  stripped  of  their  trees  and  the  meadows  drained,  and  the  brook  is 
proportionally  shrunk,  except  when  a  sudden  melting  of  snow  floods 
the  meadow  and  restores  it  to  more  than  its  original  size. 

Near  the  upper  end  of  this  valley,  in  about  the  centre  of  his  farm 
lot,  the  old  settler  built  his  house,  in  which  children  to  the  fourth 
generation  were  to  be  born  to  him.  It  stood  about  80  or  100  feet 
above  the  present  surface  of  the  great  meadow,  on  the  south-east  side 
of  a  high  hill,  which,  gently  sloping  in  front  of  the  house,  rose  steep 
and  abrupt  behind.  It  faced  as  near  the  south  as  the  rude  science  of 
the  owner  or  builder  could  make  it,  and  so  was  a  perpetual  sun-dial. 
It  had  but  one  chimney,  that  a  huge  one  in  the  centre  of  the  building. 
The  large  bricks,  made  half-a-mile  off,  were  laid  in  clay  as  far  as  the 
ridge-pole,  while  the  part  of  the  chimney  above  the  roof  was  pointed 
with  mortar.  Limestone  was  not  found  within  many  miles,  and  the 
want  of  it  was  a  serious  inconvenience  in  building.  The  house,  like 
all  the  others  in  that  neighbourhood,  was  two  storeys  high  in  front,  and 
only  one  in  the  rear.  The  rooms  were  few,  but  large  and  airy ;  the 
windows  not  numerous,  of  various  size,  but  all  small :  originally  all  the 
latches,  except  that  of  the  "fore-door,"  were  of  wood,  with  wooden 
thumb-pieces,  but  these  had  nearly  all  passed  away  before  my  recollec 
tion.  The  house,  as  it  stood  in  my  day,  had  been  built  at  different 
times,  the  eastern  end  being  considerably  younger  than  the  western, 
and  not  furnished  with  the  massive  oak-beams  which  everywhere 
stuck  out  in  the  older  part.  A  New  England  farmer  of  "  comfortable 
estate  "  would  hesitate  a  good  deal  before  setting  up  his  household  in 
such  a  cheerless  shelter ;  but  three  generations  of  stout  and  long-lived 
men  were  born  and  grew  up  there ;  and  if  the  fourth  be  more  puny 
and  sink  quicker  to  the  grave,  it  is  from  no  fault  of  the  old  house,  but 
from  the  consumption  which  such  spongy  meadows  in  New  England 
seldom  fail  to  produce  in  the  course  of  time ;  even  children,  who  have 
removed  to  healthier  situations,  carry  with  them  the  fatal  poison  in 
their  blood,  and  transmit  it  to  their  sons  and  daughters. 

As  the  old  man  at  sunrise  stood  at  the  front  or  south  door  of  his 
new  house  on  some  fine  October  morning  of  1710,  he  could  see  but  a 
single  house,  and  that  half  or  three-quarters  of  a  mile  oif,  the  other 
side  of  the  valley :  two  other  columns  of  pale  blue  smoke  in  that 
direction  might  tell  him  of  other  neighbours,  while  not  far  off  in  the 
same  valley  were  two  others,  hid  by  wooded  hills  ;  in  a  different  direc 
tion  one  more  house  had  been  built  earlier  than  his  own,  but  on  the 
north  side  of  the  hill  which  sheltered  him.* 


CMlds  :  in  the  Snake  Hill  lot. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  19 

Agriculture  was  at  a  low  stage ;  that  part  of  the  country  was  covered 
with  thick  woods,  and  when  the  farmer  cut  down  or  girdled  the  trees 
and  run  the  ground  over  with  fire,  the  land  must  have  looked  as  we  see 
it  now  in  parts  of  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont,  like  "  the  abomina 
tion  of  desolation."  However,  he  planted  many  apple-trees,  import 
ing  them  from  England ;  but  they  had  not  been  grafted,  and  so  many 
of  them  bore  sorry  specimens  of  fruit.  Many  of  those  which  it  is  said 
he  set  out  were  standing  in  my  boyhood.  He,  or  his  son  Josiah,  who 
succeeded  to  his  lands  at  Lexington,  planted  also  locust-trees,  whose 
white  blossoms  used  to  fill  the  air  with  sweetness  in  June.  He  also 
brought  lilac-bushes,  a  common  ornament  about  the  houses  of  New 
England  in  the  last  century,  and  planted  a  barberry-bush,  which  in 
my  boyhood  had  grown  to  prodigious  dimensions,  besides  having  in 
creased  and  multiplied  and  replenished  that  part  of  the  earth  with  its 
descendants. 

In  the  rear  of  the  house  was  a  monstrous  elm  which  endangered  the 
building  and  was  removed  as  a  nuisance  ;  that  was  a  full-grown  tree  in 
the  days  of  my  grandfather's  grandfather  :  other  huge  oaks  and  elms  once 
stood  close  by,  but  they  had  all  perished  before  my  birth,  and  only  a 
white  ash  with  a  great  round  top  stood  at  the  north-west  corner  of  the 
house.  It  was  planted  by  my  grandfather,  and  was  the  largest  tree  of 
the  kind  I  remember  ever  to  have  seen  in  New  England. 

Huge  boulders  lay  scattered  about  along  the  valley  and  its  tribu 
taries  ;  some  were  of .  the  hard  blueish  greenstone  which  forms  the 
skeleton  of  all  the  hills  in  that  neighbourhood,  but  others  were  of 
whitish  granite,  brought  many  miles  from  their  original  site  to  the 
north-west  of  that  locality.  Loose  stones  abounded ;  indeed,  a  more 
unattractive  piece  of  land  for  a  farmer  to  work  could  scarcely  be  found 
than  that  whole  region  for  miles  around  in  all  directions.  There  wrere 
stones  enough  within  a  foot  of  the  surface  to  fence  all  the  land  into 
acre  lots,  each  surrounded  with  a  strong  "  balance  wall." 

The  most  common  trees  were  the  numerous  species  of  oak,  the  white 
pine,  the  pitch  pine,  and  a  variety  of  it  called  the  yellow  pine,  the  hem 
lock,  and  spruce ;  on  the  rocky  hill-sides  the  juniper  or  red  cedar ;  and 
in  the  swamps  the  cypress  or  white  cedar ;  maples,  the  white  or  grey, 
black  and  yellow  birches,  the  elm,  white  and  black  ashes,  poplars,  button- 
wood,  walnuts,  chestnut,  beech,  sassafras,  and  wild  hop  or  hop-hornbeam, 
willows ;  three  species  of  sumach  occurring  on  the  homestead ;  indeed, 
most  of  the  trees  of  New  England  grow  within  a  few  miles  of  my 
home. 

The  handsomest  flowering  shrubs  and  plants  of  New  England  could 
mostly  be  found  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  the  shadbush,  the 
rhodora,  the  viscous  or  white  azalea — the  pink-flowered  species  was 
further  off;  the  numerous  cornels,  though  only  a  single  instance  of  the 
large-flowering  cornel ;  the  several  viburnums  and  the  andromedas,  the 
narrow-leaved  kalmia,  and  even  the  broad-leaved  kind,  grew  in  a  thicket  in 
the  vicinity ;  the  choke-cherries,  the  spiraeas,  both  pinkish- white  flowered, 
and  the  other  with  steeple-shaped  purple  spikes  ;  wild  roses  and  sweet 
briars,  the  clethra,  blossoming  from  July  to  October.  In  the  meadows, 
spongy  with  soft  mosses,  were  the  arethusas  and  the  cymbidium,  and 
the  rarer  painted  cup,  successively  disclosing  their  native  beauties ;  while 


20  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

a  little  later  the  pitcher-plant  offered  its  curious  flower  and  leaf  to  the 
most  careless  eye.  The  cranberry  bore  in  midsummer  its  rich  pale  red 
flowers  and  covered  whole  acres  from  whence  the  farmer  hoped,  often 
vainly,  to  win  as  fair  a  harvest  in  autumn  to  season  his  winter  food. 
The  beautiful  water  lily  grew  abundantly  in  a  shallow  pond  not  far 
off,  and  also  in  many  brooks  of  sluggish  water  ;  nay,  it  did  not  refuse 
the  benediction  of  its  presence  in  some  of  the  ill-formed  ditches  whence 
peat  had  been  cut  for  fuel  or  for  manure.  Here  the  fringed  gentian, 
not  then  to  be  seen,  has  happily  since  taken  up  its  abode  ;  the  soap- 
wort  gentian  was  uncommon,  the  trilliums  rare ;  but  along  the  brook- 
sides  the  cardinal  flowers  hung  out  their  brilliant  colours. 

On  the  hard  land  saxifrages  and  columbines  grew  on  the  sunny  sides 
of  all  the  great  rocks,  blue  violets  and  white  were  to  be  had  every 
where,  the  yellow  species  was  rarer,  and  anemones  nodded  their  hand 
some  heads  on  the  south  side  of  every  wall  where  nature  had  her  own 
way. 

In  the  woods,  the  ladies'  slipper  hung  out  its  mysterious  beauty,  the 
several  pyrolas  opened  their  blossoms ;  they,  with  the  ground  pine,  the 
partridge-berry,  and  the  boxberry,  or  Mitchella,  kept  a  green  life  in  the 
woods  under  the  snow  all  winter  through.  What  need  to  mention  the 
humbler  beauties  of  the  New  England  flora,  such  as  the  meadow-pride  and 
the  sweet  cicely,  the  craneflower  and  the  buttercups  ?  There  were 
also  red  lilies  and  yellow,  some  of  them  stately  and  queen-like  plants — 
on  a  single  stalk  I  have  seen  forty-nine  buds  and  blossoms ;  nor  should 
the  humbler-named  dog-tooth  violet  be  forgotten  in  the  list  of  its 
liliaceous  sisterhood. 

My  sisters  cultivated  the  crimson  peony,  daffodils,  white  and  yellow 
narcissus,  white  and  red  roses  of  the  most  delicious  fragrance.  Camo 
mile,  saffron,  and  the  odorous  balms  were  herbs  for  medicine,  not 
flowers  for  sport. 

In  the  thick,  dark  swamps,  huge,  corky  fungi  grew  on  the  trunks  of 
old  maples,  but  more  especially  of  the  white  birches ;  and  curious  puff-balls 
shot  up  in  the  hot,  muggy  nights  of  summer,  and  in  two  days  became 
mysteriously  as  large  as  a  quart  bowl;  while  the  usual  variety  of  other 
fungi  sprung  up  in  their  appropriate  places,  and  the  Indian  pipe 
of  seeming  make  and  mould  ;  while  lichens,  some  as  large  as  a  modern 
Kossuth  hat,  covered  the  north  side  of  rocks  and  trees. 

My  ancestors  had  planted  the  white  locust  not  far  from  the  house, 
and  a  beautiful  grove  had  grown  up  ;  some  of  the  trees  were  very 
large,  and  sweetened  the  air  for  a  week  or  two  in  June,  and  the  grass  all 
the  summer  through.  When  the  autumn  came — 

"  Every  bush  did  put  its  glory  on, 
Like  a  gemmed  bride." 

How  red  the  maples  were,  how  yellow  the  birches  and  the  walnuts,  and 
what  richly  tinted  leaves  did  the  chestnut  shake  down  ! — last  of  New 
England  trees  to  blossom,  and  bearing  the  richest,  sweetest  fruit  the 
savage  found  in  the  austere  land.  Even  the  ivy  and  the  poison  dog 
wood  were  clad  in  more  glory  than  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  intent  on  wooing 
the  King  of  Israel's  son  ;  nay,  Solomon  himself,  in  all  his  glory,  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  21 

From  the  middle  of  May  when  the  introduced  trees,  the  plum,  peach 
cherry,  apple,  and  pear,  began  to  bloom,  till  the  middle  or  end  of 
October,  the  eye  need  not  seek  a  landscape  of  humble,  quiet  New 
England  beauty  more  attractive  than  this,  and  all  winter  long  the  white 
pines,  which  seemed  so  cool  and  attractive  in  July  and  August,  had  a 
warm,  motherly  look,  and  told  of  life  still  sleeping  in  them,  around 
them,  everywhere. 

OP  THE  HUMAN  SUBBOTTNDINGS. 

At  the  age  of  45,  my  grandfather,  Captain  John  Parker,  died 
on  the  17th  of  September,  1775.  He  was  sick  on  the  day  of  the  Battle 
of  Lexington,  but  did  his  duty  from  2  A.M.  till  12  at  night.  On  the 
17th  of  June  he  was  too  ill  to  be  allowed  to  enter  the  turmoil  of  the 
Battle  of  Bunker-hill,  so  he  discontentedly  commanded  troops  who  did 
no  fighting  that  day.  He  was  never  well  afterwards,  and  an  epidemic 
dysentery  in  September  found  him  an  easy  prey  ;  he  died  at  an  early  age 
for  his  long-lived  family,  and  left  three  sons  and  four  daughters,  with  a 
widow,  who  died  at  the  respectable  age  of  92,  passing  a  portion  of  the 
last  47  years  of  her  life  in  a  second  marriage,  which  both  she  and  her 
children  had  bitter  cause  to  repent.  The  respectable  property  of  Captain 
Parker  was  wasted,  the  relict  obliged  to  take  her  new  husband  and  his 
children  home,  to  be  supported  on  "  the  widows'  thirds."  When  my 
father  married  Hannah  Stearns,  the  daughter  of  a  neighbouring  farmer, 
he  went  back  to  the  original  homestead  to  take  care  of  his  mother, 
while  he  should  support  his  handsome  young  wife  and  such  family  as 
might  happen.  It  was  the  day  of  small  things — he  wore  home-made 
blue  yarn  stockings  at  his  wedding,  and  brought  his  wife  home  over 
the  rough  winding  roads,  riding  in  the  saddle  his  tall  grey  horse,  with 
her  upon  a  pillion.  The  outfit  of  furniture  did  not  bespeak  more 
sumptuous  carriage — 'the  common  plates  were  of  wood ;  the  pitcher, 
mugs,  tea-cups  and  saucers,  were  of  coarse  earthenware  ;  while  the  great 
carving  dishes  were  of  thick  well-kept  pewter.  The  holiday  service 
"  for  company  "  was  of  the  same  material.  Yet,  a  few  costly  wine 
glasses  were  not  wanting,  with  two  long-necked  decanters,  a  few  china 
tea-cups  and  saucers,  of  the  minutest  pattern,  and  the  pride  of  the 
buffet,  a  large  china  bowl.  Besides,  the  young  bride  could  show  patch 
work  bed-quilts  and  counterpanes,  and  a  pretty  store  of  linen  towels, 
and  a  tablecloth  of  the  same,  white  as  the  snow,  and  spun,  woven,  and 
bleached  by  her  own  laborious  hands ;  and  her  father  raised  the  flax 
which  her 'brother  pulled,  and  rotted,  and  broke,  and  swingled,  and 
hackled,  and  combed.  Hannah  made  their  work  into  linen. 

In  the  course  of  many  years,  ten  children  had  been  born  to  John 
and  Hannah  (one  had  slipped  out  of  life  an  infant),  when  their  fourth 
son  and  eleventh  child  came  into  the  world,  on  24th  of  August,  1810, 
lagging  a  little  more. than  five  years  after  his  youngest,  and  afterwards 
his  favourite  sister.  I  think  I  was  the  last  child  born  in  the  old  house, 
which  then  numbered  just  100  years. 

1.  In  my  earliest  childhood  the  family  at  home  consisted  (to  begin 
in  the  order  of  age)  of  my  father's  mother,  more  than  80  at  my  birth. 
A  tall,  stately,  proud-looking  woman  :  she  occupied  an  upper  chamber, 


22  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

but  came  down-stairs  to  dinner — other  meals  she  took  in  her  own  room 
— and  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  on  the  woman  side  thereof,  opposite 
my  father,  who  kept  up  the  ancient  Puritan  respect  for  age — always 
granting  it  precedence.  She  busied  herself  chiefly  in  knitting  and 
puttering  about  the  room,  but  passed  the  Sundays  in  reading  the  large 
Oxford  quarto  Bible  of  her  husband,  bought  for  the  price  of  more  than 
one  load  of  hay,  delivered  up  at  Boston.  She  had  also  the  original 
edition  of  the  Puritan  Hymn  Book,  printed  at  Cambridge,  which  was 
much  in  her  hands.  She  read  the  newspapers,  the  Columbian  Centinel, 
which  then  appeared  twice  a  week ;  but  common  mundane  literature 
she  seldom  touched.  It  was  a  part  of  my  childish  business  to  carry 
the  drink  to  my  venerable  grandmother — twice  a  day,  at  11  A.M.  and 
4  P.M.  ;  this  was  flip  in  cool  weather,  and  in  spring  and  summer  was 
toddy  or  punch — the  latter  was,  however,  more  commonly  reserved  for 
festive  occasions. 

2.  Next  were  my  father  and  mother  :  grave,  thoughtful,  serious,  and 
industrious  people.  From  an  ancestry  of  five  generations  of  his  own 
name,  who  had  died  in  New  England,  my  father  had  inherited  a  strong 
and  vigorous  body  ;  in  his  youth,  there  was  but  one  man  in  town  who 
could  surpass  him  in  physical  strength,  and  few  who  were  his  equals. 
He  could  endure  cold  and  heat,  abstinence  from  food  and  rest,  to  a 
degree  that  would  be  impossible  to  men  brought  up  in  the  effeminate 
ways  which  so  often  are  thought  to  be  the  curses  of  civilization.  He 
was  a  skilful  farmer ;  though,  as  he  lived  not  on  his  own  land,  but  on 
"  the  widows'  thirds,"  which  his  mother  had  only  a  life-estate  in,  he 
was  debarred  from  making  costly  improvements  in  the  way  of  buildings, 
fences,  and  apple-trees,  which  are  long  in  returning  profit  to  him  that 
plants.  But  he  yet  contrived  to  have,  perhaps,  the  best  peach  orchard 
in  the  county  of  Middlesex,  to  graft  valuable '  kinds  of  fruit  upon  the 
old  trees,  and  to  adopt  nearly  all  of  the  improvements  in  farming,  as 
they  were  tested  and  found  valuable. 

He  was  also  an  ingenious  mechanic :  his  father  and  grandfather  were 
mechanics  as  well  as  farmers,  and  did  all  kinds  of  work  in  wood,  from 
building  saw-mills,  cider-mills,  pumps,  to  making  flax-spinning  wheels, 
and  turning  wooden  bread  bowls  out  of  maple  stumps.  He  had 
religiously  kept  the  tools  of  his  father  and  grandfather,  and  like  them 
continued  to  do  all  kinds  of  ordinary  jobs ;  indeed,  both  he  and  they 
were  such  mechanics  as  men  must  be  in  a  new  country,  and  should  not 
be  in  one  where  industry  is  more  elaborate,  and  able-minded  men  are 
ready  to  turn  their  hand  to  anything.  Mechanical  talent  was  here 
ditary  in  the  family  for  several  generations,  and  appeared  in  my  remote 
relations,  and  even  among  women,  on  whose  slender  shoulders  this 
mantle  seldom  falls.  My  father  was  a  thoughtful  man,  turning  his 
large  and  active  brain  and  his  industrious  hand  to  the  mechanical  and 
agricultural  work  before  him  ;  he  was  an  originator  of  new  and  short 
ways  of  doing  many  things,  and  made  his  head  save  his  hands.  In  this 
respect  his  father  and  grandfather  resembled  him.' 

His  education — his  schooling  ended  when  the  Revolution  begun — was 
of  course,  much  neglected,  but  he  was  an  uncommonly  good  arithmeti 
cian,  often  puzzling  the  school-masters  with  his  original  problems. 
Works  on  political  economy  and  the  philosophy  of  legislation  were 


THEODOEE   PARKER.  23 

favourites  with  him.  He  had  learned  algebra  and  geometry,  and  was 
familiar  with  the  use  of  logarithms.  He  read  much  on  Sundays,  in 
the  long  winter  evenings,  sometimes  in  the  winter  mornings  before  it 
was  light,  and  in  the  other  intervals  of  toil.  His  favourite  works  were 
history — that  of  New  England  he  was  quite  familiar  with — biography  and 
travels;  but  he  delighted  most  of  all  in  works  of  philosophy  which  give 
the  rationale  of  the  material  or  the  human  world ;  of  course  he  read 
much  of  the  theology  of  his  times,  and  the  literature  of  progressive 
minds  found  its  way  to  the  farmer's  kitchen.  He  had  no  fondness  for 
poetry.  In  his  latter  years,  his  reading  was  chiefly  of  novels,  not  to 
instruct,  but  only  to  amuse  the  old  man,  whose  mortal  life  was  all 
behind  him.  His  fathers  before  him  had  been  bookish  men. 

My  mother,  a  woman  of  slight  form,  flaxen  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  a 
singularly  fresh  and  delicate  complexion,  more  nervous  than  muscular, 
had  less  education  than  my  father.  Her  reading  was  confined  mainly 
to  the  Bible,  the  hymn-book,  stories  of  New  England  captives  among 
the  Indians,  of  which  there  were  many  in  the  neighbourhood,  some  in 
manuscript,  and  perhaps  never  printed.  Ballads  and  other  humble 
forms  of  poetry  gave  her  a  great  delight.  Of  course  the  newspapers 
passed  through  her  busy  hands.  My  father  often  read  aloud  to  her  and 
the  rest  of  the  family  in  the  long  winter  evenings,  while  her  fingers 
were  occupied  with  sewing  or  knitting,  making  or  mending.  She  was 
industrious,  as  indeed  were  all  the  women  of  the  neighbourhood,  but 
like  them  found  opportunities,  though  too  rare,  for  social  enjoyment 
with  them.  Dinner  was  always  at  noon,  and  after  that  was  over  and 
its  paraphernalia  put  in  order,  the  household  work  was  done,  and  a  more 
comely  dress  took  the  place  of  the  blue  check  of  the  morning. 

She  was  eminently  a  religious  woman.  I  have  known  few  in  whom 
the  religious  instincts  were  so  active  and  so  profound,  and  who  seemed 
to  me  to  enjoy  so  completely  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man.  To 
her  the  Deity  was  an  Omnipresent  Father,  filling  every  point  of  space 
with  His  beautiful  and  loving  presence.  She  saw  him  in  the  rainbow 
and  in  the  drops  of  rain  which  helped  compose  it  as  they  fell  into  the 
muddy  ground  to  come  up  grass  and  trees,  corn  and  flowers.  She  took 
a  deep  and  still  delight  in  silent  prayer — of  course  it  was  chiefly  the 
more  spiritual  part  of  the  Old  Testament  and  New  Testament  that 
formed  her  favourite  reading,  the  dark  theology  of  the  times  seems  not 
to  have  blackened  her  soul  at  all.  She  took  great  pains  with  the  moral 
culture  of  her  children — at  least  with  mine. 

3.  Come  the  brothers  and  sisters,  nine  in  number,  and  one  in  infancy 
laid  away  in  the  grave.     Some  of  these  were  much  older  than  I,  and 
had  already  gone  to  seek  their  fortunes  in  the  various  trades  and  call 
ings  of  the  time.      There  was  still  a  houseful  at  home ;  all  of  them 
but  three  had  a  decided  fondness  for  literature ;  they  read  all  the  good 
books  they  could  lay  their  hands  on,  and  copied  the  better  parts.     At 
school  they  were  always  among  the  best  scholars. 

4.  The  uncles  and  aunts  come  next.     On  my   father's  side  there 
were  two  uncles  and  twice  as  many  aunts  ;  one  of  the  former,  a  farmer 
not  far  off,  a  tall,  grave  man ;  the  other,  a  more  restless  character,  had 
served  many  years  in  the  revolutionary  war ;  he  was  in  the  battles  of 
baratoga  and  of  Torktown,  had  failed  in  business,  gone  to  South 


24  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

Carolina,  and  married  a  woman  with  some  property  at  Charleston, 
where  he  then  lived,  the  father  of  one  son.  Of  the  aunts  one  was  a 
maiden,  an  uncommonly  intellectual  woman ;  another  was  a  widow 
living  in  an  adjoining  town,  while  two  were  the  wives  of  farmers,  one 
living  in  Nova  Scotia,  the  other  in  Watertown  not  far  off.  On  the 
maternal  side  there  was  one  aunt,  a  strange,  eccentric  woman,  and  ten 
uncles,  rejoicing  in  the  names  of  Asahel,  Jepthah,  Noah,  Ammi,  Ish- 
mael,  and  Habbakuk,  and  the  like,  which,  if  not  euphonious,  are  at  least 
scriptural.  They  were  farmers  and  labourers,  some  rich  and  some 
poor. 

Besides,  the  brothers  and  sisters  of  my  grandmother  still  continued 
to  live,  though  aged  people.  Other  relations  from  the  Parker  side  of 
the  family  dwelt  in  more  remote  towns,  who  occasionally  paid  my  father 
a  visit,  in  special  one  very  old  and  tall  man,  to  whom  he  surrendered 
the  head  of  the  table  and  invited  to  say  grace. 

5.  The  neighbours  about  us  were  farmers ;  a  shoemaker  lived  a  mile 
off  on  one  side,  and  a  blacksmith  within  two  miles  on  the  other.  These 
were  generally,  perhaps  universally,  honest,  hard-working  men ;  they 
went  to  meeting  Sundays,  morning  and  afternoon.  "  Their  talk  was  of 
bullocks,  and  they  were  diligent  to  give  the  kine  fodder."  In  their 
houses,  generally  neat  as  good  housewifery  could  make  them,  you  would 
find  the  children's  school-books,  commonly  a  "singing-book,"  Billing's 
Collection,  or  some  other,  perhaps  a  hymn-book,  and  always  a  good 
quarto  Bible  kept  in  the  best  room,  sometimes  another  Bible  inherited 
from  some  Puritanic  ancestor ;  these,  with  an  almanack  hung  in  the 
corner  of  the  kitchen  chimney,  made  up  the  family  library.  Perhaps  a 
weekly  or  semi-weekly  newspaper  was  also  taken  and  diligently  read. 
Two  families  not  far  off  were  exceptions  to  this  poverty  of  books.  I 
now  think  of  no  moce.  Yet  now  and  then  the  life  of  some  great  thief, 
like  Stephen  Burrow,  or  some  pirate  or  highwayman,  would  show  itself. 
In  other  parts  of  Lexington,  "  on  the  great  road,"  in  "  the  middle  of 
the  town,"  perhaps  there  was  a  better  show  of  books.  I  only  speak  of 
my  immediate  neighbourhood. 

FROM  BlRTH  TILL   THE   AGE   OP   ElGKET. 

On  the  24th  of  August,  1810,  early  on  a  hot,  sweltering  morning,  I 
came  into  this  world  of  joys  and  sorrows.  It  seems  one  of  my  sisters 
thought  an  eleventh  child  improbable  ;  for  she  had  finished  the  "  Family 
Tree  "  with  the  tenth — five  years  older  than  myself.  However,  a  place 
was  soon  found  for  the  new-comer  both  in  the  needle-work  and  the 
hearts  of  the  household.  As  the  youngest  child,  it  may  be  supposed  I 
was  treated  with  uncommon  indulgence,  and  probably  received  a  good 
deal  more  than  a  tenth  part  of  the  affection  distributed.  I  remember 
often  to  have  heard  neighbours  say,  "  Why,  Miss  Parker,  you're  spilin' 
your  boy  !  He  never  can  take  care  of  himself  when  he  grows  up."  To 
which  she  replied  "  she  hoped  not,"  and  kissed  my  flaxen  curls  anew. 

Among  the  earliest  things  I  remember  is  the  longing  I  used  to  feel 
to  have  the  winter  gone,  and  to  see  the  great  snow-bank — sometimes, 
when  new-fallen,  as  high  as  the  top  of  the  kitchen  window — melt  away 
in  front  of  the  house.  I  loved,  though,  to  run  in  the  snow  barefoot, 


THEODORE   PARKER.  25 

and  with  only  my  night-shirt  on,  for  a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  "When 
the  snow  was  gone,  the  peculiar  smell  of  the  ground  seemed  to  me  de 
licious.  The  first  warm  days  of  spring,  which  brought  the  blue  birds 
to  their  northern  home,  and  tempted  the  bees  to  try  short  flights,  in 
which  they  presently  dropped  on  the  straw  my  provident  father  had 
strewn  for  them  over  the  snow  about  their  hives,  filled  me  with  emo 
tions  of  the  deepest  delight.  In  the  winter  I  was  limited  to  the  kitchen, 
where  I  could  build  cob-houses,  or  form  little  bits  of  wood  into  fantastic 
shapes.  Sometimes  my  father  or  one  of  my  brothers  would  take  me  to 
the  shop  where  he  pursued  his  toilsome  work,  or  to  the  barn,  where  the 
horse,  the  oxen,  and  the  cows  were  a  perpetual  pleasure.  But  when  the 
snow  was  gone,  and  the  ground  dry,  I  had  free  range.  I  used  to  sit  or 
lie  on  the  ground  in  a  dry  and  sheltered  spot,  and  watch  the  great  yel 
low  clouds  of  April,  that  rolled  their  huge  masses  far  above  my  head, 
filling  my  eye  with  their  strange,  fantastic,  beautiful,  and  ever-changing 
forms,  and  my  mind  with  wonder  at  what  they  were,  and  how  they  came 
there. 

But  the  winter  itself  was  not  without  its  in-door  pleasure,  even  for  a 
little  fellow  in  brown  home-spun  petticoats.     The  uncles  and  aunts  came 
in  their  sleighs  full  of  cousi'os,  sj~me  cj,  wljpfrj  ^§|$>of  Ir^J3  own  age?'.t;6; 
pass  a  long  afternoon  and  evening,  riot  vtithout!  abiindant  gioo(J-«?ie§r,  ; 
and  a  fire  in  "the  other  room,"  as  tha humble  parlour  was  modestly 
named.     They  did  not  come  without , a  great  applep&r la  ilitt.e.  bag^  o'fj    !, 
shag-barks,  or  some  other  tid-bit  for  "Miss  Parker's *'  btiby  •  for  DO ihe« ' 
youngest  was  called  long  after  he  ceased  to  merit  the  name.  Nay,  father 
and  mother  often  returned  these  visits,  and  sometimes  took  the  baby 
with  them  ;  because  the  mother  did  not  like  to  leave  the  darling  at 
home,  or  perhaps  she  wished  to  show  how  stout  and  strong  her  eleventh 
child  had  come  into  the  world. 

I  must  relate  one  example  to  show,  as  well  as  many  more,  the  nice 
and  delicate  care  she  took  of  my  moral  culture.  When  a  little  boy  in 
petticoats  in  my  fourth  year,  one  fine  day  in  spring,  my  father  led  me 
by  the  hand  to  a  distant  part  of  the  farm,  but  soon  sent  me  home 
alone.  On  the  way  I  had  to  pass  a  little  "  pond-hole  "  then  spreading 
its  waters  wide ;  a  rhodora  in  full  bloom — a  rare  flower  in  my  neigh 
bourhood,  and  which  grew  only  in  that  locality — attracted  my  attention 
and  drew  me  to  the  spot.  I  saw  a  little  spotted  tortoise  sunning  him 
self  in  the  shallow  water  at  the  root  of  the  flaming  shrub.  I  lifted 
the  stick  I  had  in  my  hand  to  strike  the  harmless  reptile ;  for,  though  I 
had  never  killed  any  creature,  yet  I  had  seen  other  boys  out  of  sport 
destroy  birds,  squirrels,  and  the  like,  and  f  felt  a  disposition  to  follow 
their  wicked  example.  But  all  at  once  something  checked  my  little 
arm,  and  a  voice  within  me  said,  clear  and  loud,  "  It  is  wrong  !"  I  held 
my  uplifted  stick  in  wonder  at  the  new  emotion — the  consciousness  of 
an  involuntary  but  inward  check  upon  my  actions,  till  the  tortoise  and 
the  rhodora  both  vanished  from  my  sight.  I  hastened  home  and  told 
the  tale  to  my  mother,  and  asked  what  was  it  that  told  me  it  was 
wrong  ?  She  wiped  a  tear  from  her  eye  with  her  apron,  and  taking  me 
in  her  arms,  said,  "  Some  men  call  it  conscience,  but  I  prefer  to  call  it 
the  voice  of  G-od  in  the  soul  of  man.  If  you  listen  and  obey  it,  then 
it  will  speak  clearer  and  clearer,  and  always  guide  you  right ;  but  if  you 


26 


LIFE   OF   THEODORE   PARKER, 


turn  a  deaf  ear  or  disobey,  then  it  will  fade  out  little  by  little,  and 
leave  you  all  in  the  dark  and  without  a  guide.  Your  life  depends  on 
heeding  this  little  voice."  She  went  her  way,  careful  and  troubled 
about  many  things,  but  doubtless  pondered  them  in  her  motherly  heart ; 
while  I  went  off  to  wonder  and  think  it  over  in  my  poor,  childish  way. 
But  I  am  sure  no  event  in  my  life  has  made  so  deep  and  lasting  an 
impression  on  me. 

Thus  it  closes,  but  not  abruptly,  with  the  incident  which 
marked  the  opening  of  his  religious  consciousness  ;  for  the  life 
itself  flows  naturally  on,  drawing  in  both  experience  and  educa 
tion  to  make  the  wbole  of  his  career  an  amplification  of  the 
story,  as  be  set  free  and  vindicated  in  himself  and  others,  the 
Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man. 


TIIK    HOMESTKAD. 


CHAPTER   III. 

House  and  neighbourhood — Early  spiritual  troubles — Sin — Immortality — His  character 
in  boyhood — School — Reading  at  home — Enters  Harvard  College,  1830. 

OF  the  old  homestead  furniture  Theodore  possessed  an  oaken 
table,  which  once  belonged  to  John  Parker,  his  grandfather's 
grandfather.  It  was  a  substantial  piece  of  work,  and  always 
stood  in  the  library.  Two  new  legs  were  made  for  it  out  of  the 
oaken  frame  of  the  old  rude  farm-house,  of  which,  excepting 
these,  scarcely  a  vestige  remains.  The  old  barn,  however, 
is  still  in  existence.  This  farm-house  faced  towards  the 
south,  and  stood  nearly  in  the  centre  of  the  farm  which  had 
been  in  the  family  for  150  years.  A  cart-path  led  up  to  it 
from  the  turnpike  and  went  no  farther.  Now  there  is  a  road 
passing  in  front  of  the  new  house,  which  faces  to  the  east.  The 
old  workshop  still  stands  on  the  spot  to  which  it  was  moved  in 
1794  from  Lexington  Green.  A  workshop  indeed  !  What  work 
it  did  on  that  April  morning,  when  it  was  the  little  belfry  of 
Lexington  Church,  and  stood  alone  oh  the  right  hand  of  the 
Boston  Road  ;  in  the  early  light  it  gathered  well-seasoned  timber 
from  the  country  side,  to  make  therefrom  a  cunning  piece  of 
American  joinery.  When,  in  1794,  the  new  meeting-house  put 
forth  a  steeple  of  its  own,  and  the  bell  was  raised  to  its  loft, 
this  old  belfry  was  sold  to  Theodore's  father,  who  moved  it  to 
his  farm,  and  made  spokes  and  felloes,  cider  presses  and  screws 
in  the  space  where  the  voice  vibrated  for  the  divine  service  of 
liberty.  But  that  reveille  never  got  out  of  the  rafters.  It  got 
into  Theodore,  chipping  and  chiselling,  planing  and  bevelling, 
wasting  a  good  deal,  but  learning  at  last  not  to  spoil  his  work  ; 
it  was  the  old  sound  which  afterwards  rang  in  the  sentences  of 
his  manly  indignation  as  he  strove  to  rouse  a  new  generation  to 
complete  the  father's  labour. 

Near  the  workshop  stands  a  white  ash  tree  which  Theodore 
planted  thirty-six  years  ago  from  a  seed,  and  which  until  the 
year  of  his  death  always  bore  two  crops  of  leaves,  but  has  now 


28  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

lost  the  singularity.  Gentle  critics  of  his  theology  are  hereby 
furnished  gratis  with  this  fact  that  they  may  extol  Nature's  fine 
irony  of  his  hatred  for  the  exceptional  and  preternatural.  The 
present  garden  was  formerly  a  piece  of  scrub-oak  which  covered 
a  rocky  ledge  as  far  as  the  top  of  the  little  hilj  behind  the 
house,  where  he  used  to  go  for  undisturbed  study.  The  view 
from  it  is  over  a  fine  peat  meadow,  past  a  gently-rolling  country, 
still  liberally  wooded  ;  and  in  a  clear  day  the  blue  hills  in 
Milton  make  the  horizon.  Stony  brook  straggles  southwardly 
through  the  meadows.  Across  the  fields,  in  fair  sight  from  the 
topmost  rocks,  where  Theodore  loved  to  read  and  dream,  stand 
two  great  pine  trees  which  his  boyish  regard  had  selected  from 
the  wood,  one  for  himself  and  one  for  a  favourite  sister ;  when 
the  proprietor  cleared  the  lot,  his  promise  given  to  Theodore 
years  before  saved  these  trees  from  the  axe. 

Now  their  evergreen,  more  deep  and  balsamic  with  all  the 
memories  of  the  house,  waves  to  the  family  across  the  changing 
fields.  Just  beyond  them,  on  the  turnpike,  where  a  smart 
district  school-house  now  stands,  was  the  little  old  brown  school  - 
house,  clinging  like  a  lichen  to  the  brown  ground  beneatli  the 
pines,  whither  Theodore  went,  three-quarters  of  a  mile  perhaps, 
across  lots,  in  his  first  pursuit  of  letters.  Around  the  farm 
house  was  about  half  an  acre  of  peach  trees,  now  rather  run  out, 
which  used  to  yield  in  fine  fruit  years  500  bushels  of  peaches. 
Very  little  produce  was  sold  from  the  farm  ;  for  the  father  was 
absorbed  in  his  mechanical  pursuits,  and  had  turned  the  acres 
over  to  the  boys.  Theodore  sometimes  went  to  Boston  to  sell 
the  peaches ;  and  people  remember  the  bloom  in  the  down  of  his 
young  cheeks  competing  with  the  fruit,  as  he  jogged  down  the 
road  with  it,  unconscious  of  the  ripeness  he  was  one  day  to 
carry  from  the  country  into  those  streets.  Elms  stood  like  urns 
in  the  meadow.  A  great  elm,  which  threatened  the  old  house 
with  its  weight  of  years,  has  disappeared.  A  peach  orchard  is 
planted  in  front;  oaks  and  the  ledge  clothed  with  vines  and 
columbines  are  in  the  rear.  Half  a  mile  farther  west  rises  the 
hill  called  in  those  parts  Mount  Tabor  ;  what  was  once  a  cart- 
path  is  now  a  cross-road  ;  a  simple  one-story  house  with  door 
in  the  middle  of  its  front,  out-houses  scattered  about  at  random, 
a  stone  wall  built  by  Theodore,  near  to  the  famous  old  belfry 
which  keeps  all  its  first  oak  framing  unimpaired — such  formed 
the  landscape  and  surroundings  of  his  youth. 


1 


DOUBLE-HEADED    PINE   TREE   AT   LEXINGTON. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  29 

The  Parkers,  for  several  generations,  used  to  love  to  go  to 
church ;  they  were  the  best  of  hearers  of  the  Word,  and  faithful 
doers  too,  but  they  had  their  own  thoughts,  and  resolved  as  well 
as  listened.  Only  one  of  these  Parkers,  so  far  as  is  discoverable 
now,  ever  joined  the  Church.  He  married  the  daughter  of  an 
orthodox  deacon,  and  is  suspected  of  a  weakness  for  his  wife's 
conventionalities.  A  strong  digestive  apparatus  was  hereditary 
in  the  family ;  but  it  was  content  with  plain  fare  readily  con 
vertible  into  sinews  and  nerves.  Theological  side-dishes  and  hot 
sauces  never  seemed  to  agree  with  them.  If  the  preaching  on 
Lexington  Green  touched  life  at  any  point,  it  was  welcomed  ;  but 
the  healthy  appetite  grew  testy  over  mysteries.  One  can 
imagine  the  language  of  a  sturdy  countryman,  disappointed  of  a 
righteous  meal,  and  solemnly  waved  in  to  partake  of  the  impos 
sible.  Tertullian's  creed  was  instinctively  rejected ;  the  family 
was  Unitarian  long  before  the  partizan  phrase  became  known. 
It  always  wanted  to  stand  upon  the  ground,  though  it  would 
look  beyond  the  stars ;  honest  reverence,  loyalty  and  trust,  a 
scrupulous  sense  of  duty,  a  love  for  neighbours,  a  hatred  of  all 
meanness  and  grossness,  were  never  wanting.  Hannah  Stearns 
brought,  with  all  a  woman's  tenderness  and  delicacy,  a  rare 
devoutness,  itself  unfettered,  into  this  liberal  family. 

She  belonged  to  the  Church ;  and  all  her  children  had  been 
christened,  neighbours  duly  standing  surety.  Theodore,  the  last, 
and  the  mother's  darling,  must  be  christened  in  his  turn.  This 
ceremony  was  performed  at  home,  when  he  was  about  two  and 
half  years  old.  Great  was  the  gathering  of  friends  and  neigh 
bours  !  As  the  water  was  sprinkled  on  his  head,  he  entered  his 
first  protest  against  ceremonies,  by  lustily  fighting  off  the  clergy 
man,  and  ejaculating,  "  Oh,  don't  !  "  His  curiosity  about  the 
whole  affair  did  not  speedily  die  out ;  and  as  he  was  always 
terrible  for  asking  "  Why  ? " — except  when  asked  to  do  something 
for  love — he  "  wanted  to  know"  about  being  wetted,  and  what 
object  the  participators  had  in  view.  We  have  no  doubt  he 
received  a  sensible  answer.  But  he  did  not  struggle  against  the 
baptism  of  his  mother's  spirit,  who  led  him  through  all  his 
childish  misgivings,  though  she  did  not  discover  the  depth  of  all 
of  them,  into  a  tranquil  recognition  of  the  Divine  Love. 

Eeligion  was  the  inheritance  my  mother  gave — gave  me  in  my  birth 
— gave  me  in  her  teachings.  Many  sons  have  been  better  born  than  I, 
few  have  had  so  good  a  mother.  I  mention  these  things  to  show  you 


30  LIFE   AND   COKRESPONDENCE   OF 

how  I  came  to  have  the  views  of  religion  that  I  have  now.  My  head 
is  not  more  natural  to  my  body — has  not  more  grown  with  it  than  my 
religion  out  of  my  soul  and  with  it.  With  me  religion  was  not  car 
pentry,  something  built  up  of  dry  wood,  from  without ;  but  it  was 
growth — growth  of  a  germ  in  my  soul.* 

There  was  an  interval  of  five  years  between  Theodore  and  the 
tenth  child,  so  that  he  had  no  playmate  for  a  time  but  his 
mother. 

"  Miss  Parker,  I  reckon  you're  spilin'  that  boy/'  She  used  to 
smile,  and  hope  not.  We  are  not  sure  that  his  theological 
troubles  would  have  begun  so  early  if  this  gentle  mother  had 
mustered  courage  to  chase  him  out  among  the  boys  ;  and,  quick 
witted  as  she  was,  he  did  not  betray  to  her  how  a  mob  of 
notions  hustled  and  bullied  him. 

"  When  a  very  small  boy/'  he  says,  "  there  was  no  character 
in  history  that  I  knew  so  well  as  Jesus/'  For  this  he  was  in  the 
mother's  debt.  But  he  "remembered  with  horror  and  a  quiver 
ing  of  the  flesh,"  the  torment  he  underwent  when  he  first 
found,  in  a  copy  of  the  Westminster  Catechism,  the  doctrines  of 
eternal  damnation  and  a  wrathful  God.  He  was  a  little  over 
six  when  he  fell  out  with  them. 

I  can  scarcely  think  without  a  shudder  of  the  terrible  effect  the 
doctrine  of  eternal  damnation  had  on  me.  How  many,  many  hours 
have  I  wept  with  terror  as  I  Jaid  on  my  bed  and  prayed,  till  between 
praying  and  weeping  sleep  gave  me  repose.  But  before  I  was  nine 
years  old  this  fear  weot  away,  and  I  saw  clearer  light  in  the  goodness 
of  God.  But  for  years,  say  from  seven  to  ten,  I  said  my  prayers  with 
much  devotion,  I  think,  and  then  continued  to  repeat  "  Lord,  forgive 
my  sins,"  till  sleep  came  on  me.f 

Either  he  kept  the  doctrine  to  himself  as  something  horrible 
he  had  stumbled  over  in  his  play,  the  one  bla,ck  corner  in  the 
sunny  house,  or  else  father  and  mother  had  no  idea  of  the  way 
in  which  it  haunted  him.  This  experience  was  destined  to  be 
the  first  one  of  the  many  in  which  he  had  to  feel  his  way  alone. 
The  child  instinctively  hugged  the  bitter  moment  of  his  opening 
consciousness,  though  it  tore  him.  But  his  mother's  influence 
was  unimpaired ;  she  never  weaned  him.  He  was  not  thinking 
of  his  own  early  life  when  he  said,  many  years  later,  "  Some 
parents  have  a  strange  way  of  educating  their  children ;  they 

*  MS.  Sermon  :  on  leaving  West  Roxbury. 
f  Journal,  Jan.,  1839.    See  also  his  story  in  "Sermons  of  Theism,"  p.  126. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  31 

take  the  breast  from  them  spiritually  as  well  as  corporeally  ; 
they  do  not  train  them  up  in  love  but  in  fear/' 

His  early  troubles  on  the  subject  of  immortality  are  thus 
described  in  a  letter  to  an  Irish  lady  : — 

"When  I  was  a  large  boy,  and  had  felt  more  than  I  had  reflected,  I 
heard  a  minister  preach  on  the  immortal  life.  He  told  the  arguments 
for  it,  said  they  were  all  of  no  value,  guesses,  hut  hardly  at  truth,  only 
after  it:  the  only  sufficient  proof  was  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Boy  as  I  was,  I  saw  the  folly  of  that  as  an  argument  to  prove  a  uni 
versal  proposition;  but,  hoy  as  I  was,  I  could  not  reason  the  matter  out, 
and  in  default  of  understanding  prove  my  immortality ;  so  I  felt  con 
strained  to  doubt,  almost  to  deny  it.  Some  weeks  passed  over,  weeks 
of  torment ;  at  last  spontaneous  nature  came  to  my  help ;  and  I  settled 
the  question,  not  intellectually  and  by  philosophy,  but  sentimentally — in 
the  child's  way,  not  the  man's.  It  was  not  till  years  after  that  I  found 
a  philosophy  that  satisfied  the  intellectual  demands  and  helped  me  to 
prove  it  to  myself. 

I  have  no  more  doubt  of  my  eternal  life — eternally  conscious,  eternally 
progressive,  than  of  my  present  and  mortal  condition.  But  I  do  not 
pretend  to  know  anything  about  the/orm  of  that  life  or  its  conditions. 
Since  I  believe  the  entire  goodness  of  God,  which  you  so  beautifully 
speak  of,  I  have  no  fear — no  desire  to  know  more  about  the  form  of  the 
next  life,  or  rather  of  the  next  stage  of  this  life.  If  I  had  only  reason, 
which  cares  little  about  persons  and  deals  more  with  ideas,  I  should  not 
think,  I  suppose,  or  care  about  meeting  my  friends  in  the  next  stage  of 
life ;  but  as  I  have  affections,  more  powerful,  too,  than  reason,  I  cannot 
doubt  that  I  shall  see  and  know  my  friends  in  heaven.  Once  I  did 
not  think  so ;  but  at  the  grave's  mouth,  as  it  closed  on  a  sister,  I  could 
not  doubt  where  my  logic  had  failed  me.  Nature  came  in  and  com 
pleted  her  work.* 

Nature  has  a  marvellous  faculty  of  turning  to  account  the 
"  mumps  and  measles  "  of  childhood.  Her  aim  is  to  develope  or 
to  restore  the  spiritual  health.  Theodore  was  saved  from  drugs 
and  quacking  ;  pure  air,  simple  habits,  and  a  loving  home  kept 
the  catechism  at  bay  ;  while  the  sensitive  soul,  which  had  its 
crises  almost  before  the  body  could  dispose  of  its  own,  threw  off 
the  maladies  which  so  seldom  recur.  He  grew  thus  in  power 
and  sensibility ;  and,  succeeding  these  keen  trials  of  bis  natural 
vigour,  how  simple  and  comely  was  his  growth. 

In  the  traces  made  by  these  trials  awe  and  confidence  sprung 
up,  a  profound  conviction  that  a  divine  life  pervaded  all  things, 
and  an  unassailable  willingness  to  trust  in  it.  No  child  was 
ever  so  loyal  to  its  parents  as  his  soul  to  this  Father  whom  he 

*  May  5,  1848. 


32  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

found  caring  for  the  country,  for  the  farm  and  all  its  creatures, 
for  himself  among  them.  This  was  the  ground  of  his  future 
life.  This  positive  spiritual  enjoyment  was  so  great  in  him,  that 
his  mind  was  active  for  a  long  time  before  it  criticised  and 
rejected  the  ordinary  Unitarian  theology.  The  religion  of  his 
boyhood  grew  more  and  more  absorbing,  the  experience  of  suc 
cessive  years  deepened  it,  gifts  and  acquisitions  fell  sparkling 
into  its  clearness  and  were  seen  through  it,  all  the  while  theology 
touched  him  but  lightly  and  did  not  trouble  him.  His  views  at 
that  time  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  of  miracles  and 
inspiration,  when  pronounced  at  all,  were  not  given  with  much 
emphasis,  and  were  of  the  ordinary  kind,  as  we  shall  shortly  see. 

No  child  ever  had  a  purer  piety.  His  soul  was  open  night 
and  day  to  heavenly  influences.  He  and  his  visitant  knew  no 
frontier ;  and  he  lived  so  honestly,  without  tricks  and  lying, 
infested  by  no  habits,  untempted  even  by  simple  country  dissi 
pations,  so  homely  and  brotherly,  yet  so  remote,  that  his  soul 
never  seemed  to  suspect  that  men  could  have  other  homes. 
Nothing  stole  in  and  slammed  the  door  in  his  face.  It  was  wide 
open,  through  all  the  strife  and  bitterness  which  beset  his  ma 
turity  ;  but  the  dust  of  the  battle  never  rolled  up  to  dispute  the 
light  on  that  threshold.  In  1858,  preaching  to  the  Progressive 
Friends,  he  can  say  : — 

I  have  swum  in  clear,  sweet  waters  all  my  days ;  and  if  sometimes 
they  were  a  little  cold,  and  the  stream  ran  adverse  and  something 
rough,  it  was  never  too  strong  to  be  breasted  and  swam  through.  From 
the  days  of  earliest  boyhood,  when  I  went  stumbling  through  the  grass, 
"  as  merry  as  a  May  bee,"  up  to  the  grey-bearded  manhood  of  this 
time,  there  is  none  but  has  left  me  honey  in  the  hive  of  memory  that  !• 
now  feed  on  for  present  delight.  When  I  recall  the  years  of  boyhood, 
youth,  early  manhood,  I  am  filled  with  a  sense  of  sweetness  and  wonder 
that  such  little  things  can  make  a  mortal  so  exceedingly  rich !  But  I 
must  confess  that  the  chiefest  of  all  my  delights  is  still  the  religious. 
This  is  the  lowest  down,  the  inwardest  of  all — it  is  likewise  highest  up. 
"What  detfght  have  I  in  my  consciousness  of  God,  the  certainty  of  His 
protection,  of  His  infinite  love  ?  Grod  loves  me  as  my  natural  mother 
never  did,  nor  could,  nor  can,  even  now,  with  the  added  beatitudes  of 
wellnigh  two-score  years  in  heaven.  How  the  religious  disposi 
tion  inclines  the  little  boy  or  girl  to  veneration  and  gratitude, 
virtues  which  in  the  child  are  what  good-breeding  is  in  the  full-grown 
gentleman,  giving  a  certain  air  of  noble  birth  and  well-br^d  superiority ! 
There  is  a  Jacob's  ladder  for  our  young  pilgrim,  whereon  he  goes  up 
from  his  earthly  mother,  who  manages  the  little  room  he  sleeps  in,  to 
the  dear  Heavenly  Mother,  who  never  slumbers  nor  sleeps,  who  is 
never  careful  nor  troubled  about  anything,  but  yet  cares  continually 


THEODOKE   PAEKEE.  33 

for  the  great  housekeeping  of  all  the  world,  giving  likewise  to  her 
beloved  even  in  their  sleep.  In  the  child  it  is  only  the  faint  twilight, 
the  beginning,  of  religion  which  you  take  notice  of,  like  the  voice  of 
the  blue  bird  and  the  Phoebe,  coming  early  in  March,  but  only  as  a  pre 
lude  to  that  whole  summer  of  joyous  song  which,  when  the  air  is 
delicate,  will  ere  long  gladden  and  beautify  the  procreant  nest. 

This  is  a  form  of  piety,  springing  up,  like  a  form  of  polity 
suitable  for  a  new  world,  with  the  wild  flowers  at  Lexington. 
In  its  incense  there  is  no  smell  of  scented  ambergris,  but  rather 
the  smell  of  the  fresh  ground.  No  haggard  and  yellow-skinned 
mysticism,  fed  on  parchment  and  the  air  of  cells,  loving  God 
with  passion,  and  Christ  like  a  bridegroom,  straining  body  and 
language  to  the  point  of  tenuity  to  make  out  an  artificial  rap 
ture  :  no  doting  on  phrases  and  abnormal  ecstatic  conditions. 
The  free  west-wind  on  our  hill-sides  sweeps  off  this  calenture — 
the  east- wind,  strong  with  iodine  from  the  sea-weed,  sweeps  it 
out  of  the  healthy  boy  while  he  is  gathering  New-England 
flowers. 

It  freshened  what  it  swept  through,  and  whirled  nothing 
really  tender  away.  When  still  quite  young,  he  never  went  to 
a  new  place,  or  found  himself  in  a  wood  or  field  or  street 
striking  to  his  sense,  or  not  visited  before,  without  indulging  in 
quiet  prayer  ;  "  for  the  unknown  was  to  me  doubly  holy/'  A 
natural  ascription  connected  places  arid  incidents  with  the  great 
life  over  all.  He  said,  "  My  Father  in  heaven/'  at  every 
moment  of  awe,  joy,  or  pain.  Finding  a  scarce  flower  in  the 
wet  meadow,  inhaling  the  piny  odours,  seeing  first  the  spring 
blades  in  the  garden,  weeping  at  stories  of  Indian  captivities, 
basking  in  the  May  sun  at  the  top  of  the  ledge,  feeling  the 
mother's  heart  in  every  room  of  the  house, — no  trick  of  con 
sciousness  shut  up  the  word  he  had  with  God  about  ifc  all,  or 
hinted  that  a  word  would  be  highly  proper. 

We  have  seen  that  he  tried  at  first,  by  asking  the  Lord  to 
forgive  his  sins  when  he  had  none  "to  speak  of/'  to  pray  him 
self  into  the  conviction  that  his  nature  was  depraved,  and  that 
damnation  was  a  thing  to  be  remembered  in  the  days  of  his 
youth.  This  came  from  a  catechism  that  was  lying  about  the 
house.  These  old  bundles  of  rags  which  emigration  brings  over 
will  carry  infection  for  a  long  while.  Quarantine  and  a  thorough 
smoking  out  is  the  only  remedy.  Few  people  were  ever  less 
depraved  than  he,  or  carried  from  birth  a  will  and  temperament 
4 


34  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

more  sympathetic  for  pure  and  noble  things.  A  hasty  temper, 
almost  always  the  characteristic  of  sincere  and  morally  indig 
nant  persons,  but  sometimes  in  the  end  mistaken  for  sincerity  by 
them,  was  the  only  grave  fault  he  had  to  struggle  with.  No 
kind  of  physical  indulgence  ever  seemed  to  tempt  him  for  a 
moment.  He  caught  no  habits  from  coarse  boys,  and  his  ima 
gination  was  chaste  as  a  girl's.  Nothing  crept  into  him  through 
the  loop-hole  of  an  idle  moment.  When  he  was  not  at  work  in 
the  field,  or  tinkering  in  the  shop,  he  was  deep  in  a  book.  In 
his  day-dreams  he  looked  down  through  a  cool  well :  there  was 
the  blue  sky  at  the  bottom.  He  was  very  ambitious  to  perform 
all  his  tasks,  to  find  out  all  that  was  learnable,  to  put  the  best 
foot  foremost ;  but  the  gifts  of  others  only  stimulated  his  im 
mense  energy.  Later  he  has  been  accused  of  envying  distin 
guished  men ;  but  the  root  of  envy  was  never  in  him.  Not  a 
trace  of  it  can  be  found  in  the  recollections  of  school-mates  and 
kindred  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  ah1  the  intimates  of  his  boyhood 
testify  how  naive  and  kind  he  was.  Wrestling  is  a  favourite 
rural  fashion  of  testing  back  and  wind  :  he  wrestled  with  every 
mind,  and  openly  emulated  all  his  mates.  "  We  love  to  measure 
ourselves,"  he  said,  afterwards,  "that  we  may  know  our  power, 
and  approbation  is  welcome  as  assuring  ns  of  success ;  but  the 
true  test  of  the  purity  of  our  feeling  is  whether  we  are  also 
rejoiced  to  see  another  receive  greater  approbation  for  a  better 
thing.  A  desire  of  future  fame  is  only  better  than  that  of  pre 
sent  applause  as  it  is  an  appeal  to  mankind  in  its  sanity  and 
wisdom.  To  a  great  soul  the  presence  of  a  superior  is  the 
greatest  of  blessings/'  *  Men  would  call  him  envious  because  he 
did  not  worship  their  superiors  as  his  own,  and  withheld  his 
consent  from  the  vicious  estimate  which  made  intelligence  more 
loveable  than  righteousness. 

But  as  a  boy  he  was  bashful,  painfully  conscious  of  a  certain 
awkwardness ;  and  would  underrate  himself  so  far  as  to  ask  his 
teacher  not  to  say  that  he  wrote  a  composition,  for  fear  that  his 
name  would  reduce  its  appreciable  value.  He  honestly  felt  it 
was  good  for  something,  and  honestly  doubted  that  he  was 
esteemed.  A  burning  flush  and  a  suffused  blue  eye  showed  how 
sensitive  he  was  to  praise  or  blame.  His  simple  delight  in 

*  Saturday  Afternoon  Conversations,  held  with  members  of  his  parish.     Feb.  24. 
1849. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  35 

praise  was  as  distant  from  ordinary  egotism  as  sincere  praise 
itself  is.     Here  is  something  to  the  point,  of  his  own  record  :% — 

I  went  to  Boston — lectured  before  the  men  of  colour  upon  the  Signs 
of  the  Times.  I  have  not  been  so  much  gratified  with  any  applause 
received  this  long  time  as  to-night.  When  Mr.  Nell  announced  me, 
and  that,  too,  as  a  friend  of  mankind,  the  negroes  applauded.  I  was 
never  so  much  gratified  but  once  before ;  that  was  years  ago,  when  I 
was  a  little  boy,  at  an  examination  of  the  district  school.  A  spectator, 
one  of  the  general  committee  of  the  town,  asked  my  father,  "  Who 
was  that  fine  boy  who  spoke  up  so  smart?"  My  father  said,  "Oh, 
that  is  one  of  my  boys,  the  youngest."  When  my  father  told  it  at 
home  that  John  Murray  had  asked  so,  I  felt  a  deep  joy,  not  so  much 
for  my  own  sake  as  for  the  satisfaction  it  seemed  to  give  my  father.  I 
like  this  applause  that  comes  up  in  the  deep  ground-tones  of  humanity ; 
all  other  I  care  little  for — "  it  plays  round  the  head,  but  comes  not  to 
the  heart."  I  don't  think  I  could  withstand  a  righteous  condemnation 
—not  I.* 

This  simple  disposition,  content  with  sympathy,  and  influ 
enced  only  by  the  glory  of  knowing  true  things  and  of  being 
true  to  them,  never  changed.  The  boy  never  told  a  lie  or  com 
mitted  a  meanness.  He  grew  hot  all  over  at  hearing  of  wrongs, 
at  witnessing  slights  ;  so  he  did  sometimes  when  contemptuously 
slighted.  He  was  combative  to  defend,  but  never  known  to  be 
aggressive.  His  courage  was  above  suspicion,  being  the  frank 
ness  of  his  moral  sense  in  action.  He  was  a  rigid  boy,  but 
never  took  airs  among  freer  companions ;  no  one  was  more 
tolerant  of  infirmities  and  angry  with  malice  and  chicane.  His 
worst  ambitions  were  proud  motions  which  his  mind  made  in 
the  first  self-consciousness  of  its  great  energies,  as  it  were,  like 
a  young  athlete,  with  short,  scornful  lip,  superbly  testing  his 
symmetry  and  power.  Then  he  thought  he  might  become  what 
he  pleased,  and  visions  of  legal  and  political  renown  enchanted 
him  for  awhile.  But  such  dreams  could  not  for  long  beguile 
his  nyuily  and  unselfish  heart.  He  shrank  from  seeking  any 
thing  for  himself  but  a  place  to  work  in,  though  he  was  early 
conscious  that  he  had  a  great  capacity  for  work,  and  lofty  aims 
that  would  chafe  in  any  low  or  dull  routine.  He  sometimes 
said  what  he  thought  about  this,  as  about  everything  else  ;  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  his  strength  often  surged  within  him  like 
a  passion,  and  shook  his  temperate  bounds  till  they  trembled. 
In  no  respect  did  the  man  change  from  this,  excepting  that  the 
controversies,  which  might  be  expected  to  unmask  his  testy 

*  Journal,  NOT.  19,  1844. 


36  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

humour,  brought  out  instead  his  warlike  disposition,  and  woke 
up  an  indignant  sincerity  ;  but  there  was  no  place  for  mere 
touchiness  in  his  formidable  wrath. 

He  could  not  pray  himself  into  the  belief  that  he  was  a  great 
sinner  for  a  boy.  The  first  hypocrisy  which  surprised  him  in  the 
venerable  garb  of  religion  was  the  only  one  of  his  life,  and  in 
disposing  of  it  his  soul  began  its  free,  organic  growth.  If  we 
know  what  a  boy  is,  we  can  anticipate  how  he  will  talk  about 
sin  when  he  is  a  man ;  for  whatever  sin  itself  may  be,  the 
human  statements  of  the  fact  will  always  betray  a  diversity  in 
the  mode  of  contemplating  it.  The  practical  contrast  between  a 
virtuous  and  a  vicious  life  is  plain  enough  :  virtue  seems  normal 
and  appropriate  to  man,  and  vice  is  constantly  threatening  the 
general  health  and  order  ;  but  what  is  the  essential  ground  of 
vice,  and  what  is  its  purpose  ?  There  must  be  some  reason  for 
the  contradictory  theories  which  try  to  answer  those  questions. 
The  disputants  mutually  accuse  each  other  of  ignorance  of 
spiritual  laws :  those  who  japan  their  systems  with  scriptural 
phrases,  complain  that  their  opponents  will  not  accept  the  Bible 
theory  of  sin  ;  but  the  scripturalists  themselves  agree  only  in  a 
liberal  use  of  the  japanning.  Human  nature  is  intrinsically 
bad,  because  the  divine  nature  premeditated  sin  ;  yet  it  is  not 
inconsistent  to  declare  that  sin  is  enmity  towards  God,  who 
predestined  it — something  devilish.  Man  has  altogether  gone 
astray  ;  his  nature  is  a  corrupt  root,  his  will  is  not  normally 
inclined  to  health ;  there  is  no  good  in  him,  or,  if  there  is,  it 
is  continually  at  the  mercy  of  a  lower  law.  This  is  scene- 
painting,  and  not  definition.  When  compelled  to  weigh  in  nice 
scales  these  phrases,  that  their  essential  value  may  be  tested  and 
represented  in  spiritual  equivalents,  believers  in  depravity  quarrel 
about  their  favourite  word,  because  they  really  estimate  moral 
evil  by  their  own  temperament  and  moral  condition.  ^  The 
scriptural  agreement  is  merely  forced  by  the  preconception  of 
an  infallible  and  supernaturally-inspired  Book  ;  so  that  many  a 
liberal  disposition  goes  up  and  down  yelling  in  war-paint,  and 
flourishing  tomahawks  of  texts.  Especially  if  pantheists  and 
naturalists  are  suspected  to  be  settling  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  threaten  to  encroach  upon  their  hunting-grounds,  every 
shade  of  orthodoxy  rallies,  and  vermillion  uniforms  the  league. 
If  anybody  is  found  who  speculates  a  way  of  escape  for  the 
Infinite  Goodness  from  complicity  with  moral  evil,  the  dull  texts 


THEODORE  PARKER.  3*7 

rain  upon  his  head.  The  effort  is  attributed  to  depravity  itself, 
seeking  for  immunity.  He  has  personal  reasons  for  surmising 
that  every  bad  act  is  only  an  inchoate  good  one ;  or,  that  evil  is 
goodness  underdone ;  or,  that  it  is  the  schoolmaster  bringing  men 
to  knowledge  and  self-consciousness ;  or,  that  the  Divine  Im 
partiality  digests  all  actions  into  healthy  history;  or,  that  a 
developing  God  feels  his  way  from  stage  to  stage  of  matter, 
choosing  thus  gradually  to  eliminate  its  coarseness,  clearly  seeing 
the  end  of  beauty ;  or,  that  all  creating  is  but  a  coming  to  self- 
consciousness  of  the  primaeval  mind  through  difficulties.  But 
the  feeling  which  invents  such  statements  is  a  pure  one ;  the 
conviction  that  human  nature  is  intrinsically  good  because  the 
divine  nature  is  absolutely  perfect,  goes  masquerading  in 
them  all. 

In  the  meantime,  both  orthodox  and  liberal  will  show  the 
colour  of  the  leaf  on  which  they  feed.  The  black  and  passionate 
temperament  will  speak  of  moral  evil  in  the  Bible's  most  sombre 
language — the  fair  transparent  disposition  will  borrow  the  most 
innocent  and  optimistic  texts.  Some  natures  grow  with  all  the 
simplicity  and  fragrance  of  a  flower,  drawing  only  limpid  sap 
from  the  black  earth,  conscious  of  passion  by  report  alone.  The 
pulse  is  even,  the  flesh  is  always  cool,  the  eyes  serene.  Their 
faults  have  no  malignity,  the  will  is  always  disposed  to  defer 
ence,  the  imagination  secretes  no  acrid  and  petulant  images. 
The  poisonous  elements  of  life  seem  unconsciously  rejected  by 
this  frank  and  florid  organization.  It  never  can  recollect  any 
crisis  such  as  the  theologians  call  a  change  of  heart,  and  never 
desires  it,  except  when  infected  sentimentally  by  a  revival. 
Nothing  may  be  very  deep,  but  everything  has  been  natural — a 
sense  of  dependence,  a  preference  for  cleanly  and  honest  ways, 
a  love  of  duty.  There  was  nothing  insurrectionary  in  the  pri 
mitive  motive. 

But  otl^r  natures  have  inherited  the  element  of  an  intenial 
conflict.  They  always  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  learning 
to  tell  the  truth,  to  keep  the  peace,  to  repress  envious  feelings  ; 
their  fancy  is  precocious,  and  curiously  anticipates  the  secrets  of 
life,  and  is  tormented  with  day-dreams  of  love  or  ambition. 
They  fall  into  bad  habits ;  have  wretched  seasons  of  remorse, 
which  alternate  with  indulgence ;  they  are  secretive,  and  have  a 
touch  of  the  demoniacal.  They  are  selfish,  or  hypocritical,  or 
vindictive,  or  treacherous,  or  sensual,  or  proud,  or  all  of  these, 


38  LIFE   AND   COERESPONDENCE   OF 

according  to  the  quantitive  relations  of  their  passions  and  affec 
tions.  But  their  growth  is  more  like  the  campaign  of  two 
armies  than  the  silent  ripening  of  summer  nights  and  days. 
They  have  to  fight  for  every  inch  of  ground  they  occupy. 

The  first  class  speaks  of  sin  blandly,  except  when  horror- 
stricken  at  the  sight  of  it,  or  conventionally  taught  to  use  the 
scripture  terms.  Clergymen  of  this  kind  are  sometimes  intellec 
tually  committed  to  human  depravity  and  the  concurrent  doc 
trines  ;  but  their  inmost  feeling  never  preaches  it.  Both  the 
pure  and  the  passionate  who  live  where  the  doctrine  has  its  full 
traditional  sweep,  and  is  not  vigorously  criticised,  will  accept  it.* 
Gentle  young  people  will  sometimes  appear  to  suffer  under  con 
viction  of  sin.  It  is  the  sin  of  a  traditional  theology  rioting  in 
morbid  conditions  of  the  mind  or  body.  If  they  become  clergy, 
men,  and  continue  their  bad  health,  they  will  continue  to  use  bad 
language  and  defame  human  nature.  But  their  sweet  and  blame 
less  life  totters  under  the  ponderous  phrases  and  shoots  naive 
glances  at  the  listeners. 

The  people  who  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble  with  their  passions 
will  remember  their  personal  discomfort  when  they  speak  of  moral 
evil.  If  they  change  their  whole  course  of  life,  clean  out  their 
fancies,  and  banish  their  ambitions,  they  will  estimate  sin  at  the 
rate  of  effort  and  suffering  they  have  endured.  A  clergyman 
who  has  lived  a  rather  stormy  youth  will,  if  he  has  talent  and 
dramatic  power,  astonish  an  audience  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
demoniacal  element,  and  convince  them  for  a  while  that  neither 
in  himself  nor  in  them  is  there  one  good  thing.  And  how  many 
good  things  he  will  say  !  Whatever  faithfully  repeats  a  per 
sonal  experience  is  useful  to  men.  But  if  a  bad  experience  sets 
up  to  be  a  system  of  the  universe,  and  to  represent  a  divine  in 
tention  that  omits  no  soul,  it  is  a  hideous  idol,  and  the  pulpit  its 
lumbering  car  in  which  it  overrides  all  natural  distinctions. 

Now,  between  talking  about  moral  evil,  making  onJte  personal 

•  After  reading  Miller's  Life  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  Mr.  Parker  records  his  impression. 
"  A  most  remarkable  child,  youth  and  man,  mild,  gentle  and  most  lovely.  How  such  a 
person  must  have  revolted,  naturally,  from  the  stern,  sour  doctrines  of  Calvinism.  How 
his  heart  must  bleed  before  it  could  admit  the  dreadful  doctrines — total  depravity  and 
eternal  damnation,  and  the  like.  Oh  !  if  they  wrung  his  soul  as  they  have  wrung  mine, 
it  must  have  bled."  Edwards's  account  of  the  developing  of  his  spiritual  life,  which  he 
calls  his  conversion,  has  hardly  a  trace  of  these  doctrines,  though  there  is  a  free  use  of 
the  conventional  phrases.  With  animal  spirits  and  a  robuster  frame,  his  sense  of  his 
own  wickedness  would  have  considerably  diminished. 

Mr.  Parker  copied,  for  his  own  use,  many  of  the  resolutions  which  Jonathan  Edwards 
wrote  down  before  he  was  20. 

1  '•  -  -.     \ 


THEODORE   PARKER.  39 

experience  a  subject  of  rhetoric,  and  defining  the  fact  itself,  there  is 
a  vast  difference.  The  latter  can  only  be  approximately  done  by 
knowledge,  as  it  subsidizes  physical  and  moral  science,  and  their 
analysis  of  human  actions.  The  phenomena  of  moral  evil  are, 
like  all  other  phenomena,  subjects  for  a  scientific  investigation, 
that  is,  a  complete  observation  of  the  inner  and  the  outer  man 
— including  his  locality,  climate,  culture,  and  circumstances.  But 
anybody  can  talk  about  moral  evil,  from  tradition  and  from  feel 
ing.  The  contradictory  language  which  people  equally  sincere 
make  use  of  in  their  attempts  to  speak  of  moral  evil,  is  owing 
to  their  want  of  precise  inductions  from  a  sufficient  number  of 
facts  ;  in  other  words,  to  their  want  of  knowledge.  And  be 
lievers  of  every  shade  of  liberality  think  that  they  furnish  a 
portable  definition  of  sin,  when  in  reality  they  are  only  express 
ing  themselves  ;  their  phrases  are  the  net  result  of  all  their  cha 
racteristics,  or  else  a  mere  repetition  of  the  tradition  current  in 
their  circles.  Allowing  for  disturbances,  such  as  artificial  teach 
ing,  and  the  truculent  sentimentalism  of  conferences  and  revivals, 
it  is  true  that  the  bias  of  a  man's  youth  will  decide  his  concep 
tion  of  the  fact  of  sin. 

Mr.  Parker  was  healthily  built,  within  and  without,  open  to 
the  air  and  sun,  with  no  uncanny  corners  to  catch  dirt  and 
vermin,  and  not  a  single  rat-hole  in  the  whole  house.  He  shrank 
from  vicious  and  slatternly  habits,  but  knew  perfectly  well  that  he 
had  neither.  So  that  he  could  not  pray  against  the  whole  sin 
cerity  of  his  nature  in  favour  of  any  dogmatic  statement  of  evil. 
At  first  he  tried  to  force  a  conviction  that  in  sin  did  his  mother 
conceive  him  ;  but  the  ingenuous  boy  learned,  through  much  weep 
ing,  a  holier  feeling  concerning  himself  and  his  mother.  The 
unnatural  attempt  at  last  gave  way  to  a  sense  of  the  Infinite  Love, 
which  kept  his  mind  and  heart  bathed  in  health  until  maturer 
knowledge  opened  the  question  again,  as  we  shall  see,  when  the 
facts  of  evil  challenged  his  youthful  sentiment,  and  the  under 
standing  and  the  moral  disposition  came  to  terms.  But  a  tem 
perament  undisturbed  by  the  grosser  impulses,  full  of  warmth  at 
feeling  or  perceiving  wrong,  neither  secretive  nor  selfish,  but 
magnanimous,  indignant,  plain-spoken,  ruled  by  a  very  fastidious 
conscience,  and  penetrated  by  a  tender  piety, — this  controlled  his 
future  treatment  of  evil  and  his  views  of  sin. 

But  he  was  very  early  sensitive  to  the  qualities  of  actions  and 
feelings.  It  was  almost  a  morbid  delicacy,  such  as  we  find  in 


40  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

weaker  natures  the  cause  of  a  precocious  mysticism  or  ultra- 
Calvinistic  views.  Examples  of  this  disease  are  sometimes 
paraded,  in  the  interest  of  a  preternatural  theology,  as  evidences 
of  early  conversions  from  nature  to  grace.  If  this  spiritual 
sensibility  in  the  little  Theodore  had  not  been  vigorously  matched 
by  a  promising  digestion,  or  if  the  family  inheritance  of  con 
sumption  had  developed  earlier,  the  catechism  might  have  done 
him  some  damage,  and  his  clear  strong  soul  might  have  had  a 
harder  conflict.  Stalwart  trappers  will  sometimes  get  debilitated 
by  swamp  mists,  scurvy  fare,  and  Indians.  But  Theodore  came 
off  embrowned,  elastic,  far-sighted,  tenacious  on  the  war-trail. 
The  early  trial  taught  him  betimes  the  great  secret  of  successful 
warfare,  to  reduce  your  baggage  to  its  effective  minimum.  He 
was  trained  to  dispense  with  the  doctrinal  impediments,  and 
went  into  life  carrying  rations  sufficient  for  the  march. 

Here  he  records  an  opportunity  he  had  to  attempt  shouldering 
innate  enmity  and  a  perverse  will.  It  is  from  a  letter  to  a 
friend. 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  of  the  earliest  fact  of  consciousness  I  ever  felt 
pained  at  ?  When  in  my  4th  year  my  father  had  a  neighbour,  Deacon 
Steams,  come  to  kill  a  calf.  My  father  would  not  do  it  himself,  as 
other  farmers  did.  I  was  not  allowed  to  see  the  butchery  ;  but  after 
it  was  all  over,  the  Deacon,  who  had  lost  all  his  children,  asked  me  who 
I  loved  best?  "Papa."  "What!  Better  than  yourself?"  "Yes, 
sir."  "  But,"  said  my  father,  "  if  one  of  us  must  take  a  whipping, 
which  would  you  rather  should  have  the  blows  ?  "  I  said  nothing,  but 
wondered  and  wondered  why  I  should  prefer  that  he  should  have  the 
blows  and  not  I.  The  fact  was  plain,  and  plainly  selfish,  and,  it 
seemed  to  me,  wicked.  Yet  I  could  not  help  the  feeling.  It  tormented 
me  for  weeks  in  my  long  clothes. 

Long  clothes  are  certainly  embarrassing,  especially  in  the  pur 
suit  of  truth.  Many  a  seeker  trips  himself  up  and  lies  a  mere 
heap  of  clothing  by  the  way ;  but  Theodore  soon  got  out  of 
long  clothes,  and  had  a  suit  of  lasting,  for  all  work,  comfortable 
to  the  sturdy  limbs  and  delicate  perceptions. 

Here  is  a  reminiscence  which  finds  its  place  in  this  period  of 
childhood.  It  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  written  to  a  divinity 
classmate  in  1839. 

Death  is  no  more  to  a  man  tban  the  change  from  the  infant's  "  long- 
clothes  "  to  the  "  frock  and  trousers "  of  the  boy.  I  understand, 
therefore^  why  Swedenborg  found  men  in  the  other  world  who  had 
forgotten  all  about  their  death  ;  in  a  word,  did  not  remember  they  had 
ever  died.  Perhaps  most  men  do  not  remember  anything  about  their 


THEODORE   PARKER.  41 

change  from  baby-clothes  to  the  boy's  dress.  I  have  not  forgotten  all 
about  my  change  of  dress.  I  remember  that  I  cried,  and  struggled 
most  lustily  against  the  new  dress  ;  and  when  my  legs  were  squeezed 
into  their  new  envelopes,  I  was  so  ashamed  that  I  went  into  the  fields 
to  hide  myself.  I  doubt  that  I  should  complain  half  so  much  if  death 
were  to  come  with  the  new  suit,  and  tell  me  to  lay  aside  my  rags. 

Out  of  school  there  were  various  jobs  for  him  about  the 
house ;  he  became  a  working  member  of  the  family  as  soon  as 
he  could  steady  himself  upon  two  stout  legs.  All  tbe  chips 
must  be  picked  up,  to  begin  with  ;  then  he  had  wood  to  bring 
in,  pretty  soon  to  drive  the  cows  to  pasture,  carry  grain  to  the 
horse,  and  "  nubs  of  corn  to  the  oxen."  His  father  was  very 
fond  of  animals,  a  close  observer  of  their  habits  ;  he  had  a  re 
spectful  way  of  treating  them,  which  taught  his  children  to  show 
kindness  to  every  animated  form.  He  always  prevented  them 
from  witnessing  any  slaughtering  operation.  In  the  workshop 
Theodore  learned  to  hold  the  chalk-line,  to  know  the  different 
tools  and  fetch  them.  He  loved  to  make  things,  and  became 
very  expert ;  for  he  had  a  fitting  and  joining  faculty  not  even 
tually  to  be  limited  by  glue  and  scantling. 

Across  the  meadow  he  went  to  that  little  brown  district 
school-house ;  for  he  did  not  fancy  following  the  cart-path  into 
the  turnpike,  but  saved  time  by  putting  stepping-stones  across 
the  brook.  School  was  kept  for  the  smallest  children  twelve  or 
sixteen  weeks  in  spring  and  summer  ;  the  winter  term  was  twelve 
weeks  long.  For  a  year  or  two  Theodore  went  to  school  both 
summer  and  winter,  but  after  1817—18  only  in  winter.  He 
trudged  off  alone,  or  in  bad  weather  was  carried  round,  with  a 
well-conned  lesson,  and  a  heart  full  of  the  new  surmises  of  his 
conscience. 

He  was  about  six  years  of  age  when  he  begun  to  go  to  this 
public  school.  Oliver  Locke  was  the  male  teacher,  and  "Aunt 
Pattie "  (Mary  Smith)  the  female.  He  was  in  Aunt  Pattie's 
department.  John  Hastings  succeeded  in  1818.  Theodore, 
then  eight  years  old,  dearly  loved  play,  and  was  never  left  out  of 
any  game.  Bat  and  ball,  bows  and  arrows,  and  pop-guns,  were 
successively  rages.  When  pop-guns  came  in,  he  got  his  elder 
brother  to  construct  one  of  the  largest  calibre,  which  he  took  to 
school.  Till  its  range  and -effect  were  tested,  he  was  very  miser 
able  ;  his  young  idea  refused  to  shoot.  Promptly,  to  solve  the 
pain  of  a  divided  duty,  he  let  it  off.  "  Who  fired  that  gun  ?" 


42  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Theodore's  lips  were  spelling  words  with  prodigious  abandonment. 
Presently,  however,  his  desire  again  overcame  him — for  such  a 
sonorous  pop-gun  who  would  not  brave  the  ferule — off  it  went, 
just  as  John  Hastings  happened  to  look  up.  Alas  !  the  reckless 
gunner,  with  his  own  hands,  must  consign  his  piece  to  the  stove, 
where  it  crackled  pitilessly  to  a  reprimand. 

His  pop-gun  was  always  of  the  biggest,  for  his  mark  was  far 
and  high. 

He  was  never  unpopular  with  his  schoolmates,  but  they  stood 
somewhat  in  awe  of  him,  partly  on  account  of  his  quantity  of 
character,  and  partly  because  he  was  so  keen  for  the  ridiculous, 
and  had  such  overwhelming  powers  of  mimicry  ;  the  gait,  ges 
ture,  tone  of  voice  and  pet  phrases,  even  the  habit  of  thinking, 
and  the  average  opinions  of  a  person,  were  all  faithfully  re 
produced  by  him.  This  talent  was  afterwards  the  delight  of 
intimates  in  the  study  at  West  Koxbury  and  in  Exeter  Place, 
where  politicians,  professors,  and  clergymen  slid,  without  extenu 
ation  or  malice,  through  the  dissolving  views  of  his  hilarious 
hours. 

His  weight  of  character  was  once  well  shown  when  he  was 
hardly  nine  ;  an  old  farmer  came  to  the  school-house  to  complain 
of  some  trick  which  i»he  boys  had  played  with  his  horse  and 
wagon.  His  rage  was  not  to  be  appeased  without  a  victim. 
But  the  master,  after  asking  one  or  two,  came  to  Theodore,  and 
said,  "  Theodore,  do  you  know  anything  about  this  ?  "  Theo 
dore  got  up  and  quietly  remarked,  "  I  don't  know  anything  about 
it,  sir/'  There  was  gravity  enough  in  the  reply  for  a  complete 
outfit ;  all  the  little  fellows,  culprits  included,  received  their 
allowance,  and  the  old  man  went  away  impressed  with  the  col 
lective  innocence. 

He  was  apt  to  be  rough  at  play,  and  to  tumble  his  comrades 
about  in  a  shaggy  fashion,  as  if  with  great,  humorous  paws  ; 
but  he  never  bullied  or  wilfully  vexed  them.  All  his  strength 
was  awkward  then,  but  not  unkind.  And  there  was  always  in 
the  school  a  wholesome  sense  that  he  could  not  bear  to  see  any 
body  "  put  upon."  Still  we  do  not  hear  that  he  had  lovers ; 
and  if  there  were  any  who  looked  at  him  through  devoted  eyes, 
his  glances  repaid  only  protection  and  humanity.  The  little  eyes 
did  not  meet  his  at  a  level,  yet  his  never  ceased  to  go  hungering 
for  their  mates. 

When  Theodore  was  only  eight,  he  was  called  one  of  the 


THEODORE   PARKEK.  43 

greatest  readers  in  the  town.  His  father  owned  a  share  in  the 
"Social  Library/'  and  was  a  devourer  of  books.  Instead  of 
visiting  his  neighbours  when  work  was  done,  he  sat  down  with 
his  family  around  the  dining  table,  where  all  quietly  read.  The 
women  mended  and  darned  the  stockings  at  the  same  table,  and 
the  father  read  aloud  what  struck  him.  The  old  grandmother 
sat  in  the  flickering  fire-light — the  past  flickered  in  her  mind. 
Much  was  learned  in  these  winter  evenings.  Father  and  mother 
taught  far  beyond  the  school ;  they  taught  Theodore  to  be 
curious  about  human  affairs,  and  the  characters  of  famous  men. 
He  became  such  a  glib  expositor  of  the  current  politics,  that  older 
people  liked  to  draw  him  out  by  pretended  opposition ;  then  his 
opinion  grew  ardent  enough.  But  he  also  had  books  of  his  own 
to  read,  which  his  father  brought  him  from  the  library. 

When  a  little  boy,  an  old  man  overtook  me  going  to  school,  and 
walked  a  mile  with  me.  He  told  me  what  it  was  possible  for  a  bright 
boy  to  do  and  to  be — what  I  might  do  and  be ;  it  had  a  great  influence 
on  me.  I  began  to  think  I  "  might  be  somebody." 

Homer  and  Plutarch  I  read  before  I  was  eight ;  Rollin's  Ancient 
History  about  the  same  time ;  and  lots  of  histories,  with  all  the  poetry 
I  could  find,  before  ten.  I  took  to  metaphysics  about  eleven  or 
twelve. 

We  had  in  the  family  some  MS.  histories  of  the  Segur  family,  and 
their  captivity  among  the  Indians ;  also  Mrs.  B-owlandson's  adventures. 
Mother  knew  by  heart  many  family  histories  of  the  old  New-England 
times,  and  used  to  tell  them  to  me.  We  had  also  a  folio  volume  of 
travels  in  the  Levant,  which  interested  me  much,  as  soon  as  I  could 
read,  and  to  this  day ;  father  and  mother  always  read  the  books  first, 
and  examined  me  in  every  book  I  read.  If  I*  could  not  give  a  good 
account  of  it,  I  must  not  have  another  till  I  could  satisfy  the  rigorous 
demands  of  father. 

I  began  to  write  verses  at  eight,  and  could  repeat  at  ten  a  poem  of 
500  or  1000  lines  after  a  single  reading,  or  a  song  from  hearing  it  once. 
I  used  to  commit  the  hymns  which  the  minister  was  reading,  and  before 
the  choir  began  to  sing. 

At  ten  I  made  a  catalogue  of  all  the  vegetable  productions,  trees, 
and  shrubs,  which  grew  upon  the  farm  ;  there  were  many  of  which  I 
could  not  find  the  names,  so  I  invented  them — fanciful  enough. 

We  had  a  copy  of  Morse's  large  Geography,  which  helped  me  a  good 
deal,  and  a  folio  copy  of  Evelyn's  celebrated  Sylva.  It  was  a  great 
treasure  to  me ;  it  contained  bits  of  poetry  too,  which  delighted  me, 
passages  from  Tusser  and  Chaucer,  which  I  had  not  seen  before. 

Mr.  Lyman's  garden,  at  Waltham,  filled  me  with  admiration  at  the 
rare  trees,  plants,  and  shrubs,  which  I  did  not  know.  I  went  there 
when  twelve  or  thirteen.  Then  the  foreign  fruits  which  I  saw  at  my 
first  visit  to  Boston,  the  tropical  husks  and  leaves  which  came  wrapped 


44  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

around  bales  of  merchandize,  tea-chests,  and  other  boxes,  stimulated 
my  love  of  nature  still  more. 

I  used  to  inquire  after  the  conformation  of  the  hills  in  other  parts 
of  the  country,  which  I  had  never  seen.  In  my  neighbourhood  they 
all  had  their  steep  sides  towards  the  south  and  east.  I  always  asked 
boys — and  men  when  I  dared — who  came  from  a  distance,  if  it  were  so 
in  their  country.  I  commonly  got  the  answer,  "  /  den  know"  An 
Englishman  told  me  about  the  peat  mounds  in  Britain,  which  I  could 
not  account  for.  I  got  together  all  the  odd  stones,  &c.,  I  could  find. 
A  neighbour  once  brought  me  in  my  fourteenth  year  a  bit  of  brown 
oxide  of  manganese,  which  abounded  on  the  farm  of  his  son  in 
Vermont,  and  wanted  to  know  what  it  was.  It  took  me  a  day  or  two 
to  find  out,  with  the  rude  chemical  apparatus  I  had  made ;  but  I  did 
— and  told  him,  to  the  amusement  of  the  neighbours. 

At  ten  I  began  to  study  Latin.  This  continued  five  winters,  in 
which  time  I  read  the  usual  elementary  books,  with  Virgil,  Cicero's 
Select  Orations  and  Sallust.  I  began  Greek  at  eleven.  Natural 
Philosophy,  Astronomy,  Chemistry  and  Ehetoric  I  studied  by  myself. 
Astronomy  had  always  interested  me  much.  When  twelve  years  old 
I  once  saw  the  crescent  form  of  Venus  with  my  naked  eye.  It  amazed 
me.  Nobody  else  could  see  it ;  father  was  not  at  home.  Nobody 
knew  that  the  planets  exhibit  this  form.  So  I  hunted  after  a  book  on 
Astronomy,  and  got  it  from  the  schoolmaster,  and  found  out  the  fact 
and  its  reason. 

His  first  school  composition  was  on  "  The  Starry  Heavens  ;" 
the  teacher  found  fault  with  it — that  it  was  too  short. 

In  the  summer  "  nooning/'  when  the  hands  were  lolling  in 
the  shade,  Theodore  took  out  his  book,  and  kept  tilling  and 
sowing  while  others  slept.  He  never  shirked  his  chores  of  work, 
but  the  book  came  into  all  lawful  intervals. 

The  father  was  too  poor  to  buy  many  books.  Theodore  must 
find  his  own  methods  to  appease  this  ravening  for  knowledge. 
He  early  began  to  help  himself  to  what  he  wanted.  Nothing 
was  strong  enough  to  dull  for  a  moment  this  instinctive  necessity 
of  his  mind — no  amusement,  no  accomplishment.  Dancing  cost 
too  much  to  learn,  though  it  was  thought  highly  of,  and  country 
balls  were  courtly  occasions.  But  money  must  be  saved  for 
books.  With  the  proceeds  of  a  whortleberrying  campaign  in 
1822,  he  bought  his  first  book.  He  had  to  carry  the  berries  to 
Boston  for  sale ;  so  the  city  purchased  the  incunabulum  of  the 
noble  library  of  11,000  volumes,  which  he  bequeathed  to  it  at 
last 

In  1820,  William  H.  White,  afterwards  a  highly -esteemed 
Unitarian  clergyman,  took  the  South  District  school  at  Lexing 
ton,  and  taught  there  two  winters.  He  saw  the  ambition  and 


THEODORE   PARKER.  45 

capacity  of  Theodore,  and  led  him  along  with  the  tenderest  sym 
pathy.  Nothing  but  English  studies  were  pursued  in  the  school ; 
but  Mr.  White  volunteered  to  teach  him  Latin,  and  afterwards 
Greek. 

The  "  Historia  Sacra  "  was  his  first  Latin  book,  with  Smith's 
Latin  Grammar  and  Young's  Dictionary  for  help,  all  of  them  long 
out  of  print,  and  replaced  by  better  books.  He  became  very  much 
attached  to  Mr.  White,  and  years  after  used  to  write  him  tender 
and  grateful  letters. 

I  shall  never  cease  to  thank  you  for  starting  me  in  Latin,*  and  in 
Greek  too,  nor  shall  I  ever  forget  how  I  hid  my  head  in  the  bed-clothes 
and  cried — for  I  was  sick  then,  and  could  not  rise — when  they  told  me 
that  you  would  not  keep  school  next  winter,  but  a  stranger  was 
coming. 

The  stranger  was  Mr.  George  Fiske,  who  kept  it  for  three 
winters,  and  of  whom  it  is  told,  that  happening  to  misquote 
scripture  one  morning,  Theodore  rose  in  his  seat  and  put  him 
right,  much  to  the  edification  of  the  school.  The  boy's  memory 
already  promised  the  vigour  and  capaciousness  which  afterwards 
brought  home  and  warehoused  such  varied  spoils.  The  teachers 
used  to  extol  his  memory  first,  and  his  rapid  acquisition  next. 
.  Now  let  us  see  how  much  schooling  he  received.  Eleven 
weeks  each  winter,  from  1817  to  1827,  and  two  summer  terms, 
from  1817  to  1819.  At  16  years  of  age,  he  had  one  quarter 
at  the  Lexington  Academy.  That  was  all.  Algebra  was  added 
to  Latin  and  Greek  at  the  Academy.  He  mastered  Colburn's 
Algebra  in  20  days.  In  the  winter  of  1827,  being  then  ]  7,  he 
began  to  teach  :  the  first  winter,  a  district  school  in  Quincy,  the 
second  in  North  Lexington,  the  third  in  Concord,  and  the  fourth 
in  Waltham,  working  on  the  farm  and  in  the  shop  the  rest  of 
the  year.  The  farmers  used  to  reckon  that  the  work  their  boys 
could  do  in  the  winter  season  was  about  equal  to  the  cost  of. 
their  board  ;  there  was  no  objection,  then,  if  they  wanted  to 

*  He  was  ready  enough  to  learn  Latin ;  for  a  Catholic  cradle-hymn,  which  he  found  in 
an  old  magazine  when  he  was  hardly  seven,  had  tormented  him  a  good  deal.  Nobody 
around  him  could  unlock  the  mystery,  only  his  brother  told  him  it  was  Latin.  The  word 
"Jesu"  filled  him  with  an  intense  desire  to  know  the  meaning.  Almost  forty  years 
after  he  fell  in  with  it  again,  and  thus  translated  it : — 

Dormi  Jesu — mater  ridet  Slumber,  Jesu — mother  smileth 

Quse  tarn  dulcem  somnum  videt ;  As  sweet  sleep  her  babe  beguileth, 

Dormi,  Jesu,  blandule  !  Darling  Jesu,  go  to  sleep  ! 

Si  non  dormis  mater  plorat,  If  art  waking  mother  rnourneth, 

Inter  fila  cantans  orat,  Singing,  as  her  spindle  turneth, 

Blande  veni  somnule.  "Gently,  little  slumber  creep." 


46  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

leave  home.  But  if  Theodore  taught  school  during  any  other 
weeks  of  the  year,  or  left  home  to  make  a  visit,  he  hired  a  man 
to  take  his  place  and  work  on  the  farm.  So  he  did  when  he 
left  home  finally,  at  the  age  of  19  :  for  two  years,  till  he  was 
21,  he  furnished  his  father  with  a  labourer. 

At  17  he  began  to  train,  with  what  recollections  of  Lexington 
Green  and  Captain  Parker  we  may  imagine.  He  was  very  active 
and  punctual  in  the  discharge  of  his  military  duties,  was  clerk 
of  the  company,  and  rose  even  to  the  grandeur  of  a  lieutenancy, 
or,  as  some  say,  he  was  ensign.  If  he  ever  did  bear  the  colours 
at  muster  or  May-training,  it  was  with  gravity,  no  doubt,  and 
certain  private  thoughts  of  the  value  of  the  symbol.  As  clerk, 
he  called  the  roll  of  the  company  ;  the  famous  names  were  still 
upon  it.* 

So  he  trained,  ploughed,  built  stone-walls,  made  spokes,  bored 
pumps,  mended  farm  tools,  filled  each  crevice  with  a  book,  and 
lifted  the  varied  toil  with  generous  and  aspiring  thought.  If 
from  the  school  teaching  he  had  any  money  left,  after  sumptu 
ously  paying  his  substitute,  it  went  for  books,  long  anticipated, 
dearly  cherished  as  the  blossoming  of  all  his  labour.  He  pushed 
his  way  to  Greece  and  Eome,  and  far  outread  the  average  for  his 
years.  If  he  made  an  evening  visit,  he  would  study  till  two  or 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  At  Waltham,  he  began  to  teach 
French,  after  taking  a  few  lessons ;  a  little  later  we  find  him 
mastering  Spanish. 

In  the  summer  of  1830,  the  day  before  his  birth-day,  he 
went  away  from  home,  and  was  absent  till  near  midnight.  He 
had  received  permission  from  his  father  to  be  gone  for  a  da}r, 
but  was  unwilling  to  say  wherefore ;  so  nobody  knew  where  he 
had  gone.  Keturning,  he  went  up  to  his  father's  bed-side,  and 
said,  "Father,  I  entered  Harvard  College  to-day/'  He  had 
spent  the  whole  day  in  undergoing  examination  at  Cambridge. 
The  perplexity  of  the  old  man  at  his  mysterious  absence  was  not 
lessened  when  he  heard  the  cause.  "  Why,  Theodore !  you 
know  I  cannot  support  you  there."  "  I  know  that,  Father  ;  I 
mean  to  stay  at  home,  and  keep  up  with  my  class."  He  had 
quietiy  prepared  to  enter  the  freshman  class.  He  remained  at 

*  He  did  not  like  to  see  any  popular  indifference  to  the  militia-system,  and  used  to 
say  that  the  time  would  come  when  we  should  depend  upon  it,  and  regret  that  it  had  not 
been  vigorously  sustained.  He  thought  it  one  of  the  best  things  in  Governor  Banks,  that 
he  cherished  the  militia  and  strove  to  renew  its  effectiveness. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  47 

home  another  winter,  doing  all  his  work,  carrying  on  his  studies, 
and  going  down  to  Cambridge  to  participate  in  the  examina 
tions.  He  was  not  entitled  to  a  degree,  because  he  had  been  a 
non-resident,  and  had  not  paid  tuition  fees.  But  afterwards,  at 
the  kindly  representation  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Francis,  of  "Water- 
town,  the  usual  degree  of  A.B.  was  offered  to  him  on  payment 
of  the  usual  fees  of  instruction  for  four  years.  But  this  amounted 
to  a  considerable  sum,  altogether  beyond  Theodore's  ability  ;  and 
he  could  not  buy  his  degree.  The  degree  of  A.M.  was  afterwards 
bestowed  upon  him  (honoris  causa)  in  1840. 

Here  is  an  entry  in  his  journal  for  August  23,  1850  : — 

It  is  this  day  twenty  years  since  I  entered  Harvard  College !  "What 
misgiving  I  had  at  that  time.  Yet  how  joyfully  I  went  home  and  told 
my  father — a-bed,  but  not  asleep — that  I  had  entered  Harvard  College. 
How  joyfully  I  went  to  work  again  the  next  day !  But  what  changes 
since!  Then  I  had  a  father  and  three  sisters — a  few  friends  whom 
now-a-days  I  never  see.  What  sad  times  have  I  passed  through  since 
— not  without  the  Star  of  Faith  to  guide  me. 

After  making  the  above  record,  his  prayer  follows ;  for  on  all 
days  set  apart  in  any  strong  or  tender  way  by  memory  his 
heart  flowed  forth  in  supplication  : — 

Father,  who  hast  been  my  Help  and  my  Reliance  hitherto — in  the 
dangerous  period  of  passion,  and  my  trial  of  poverty — be  with  me  now 
in  the  more  dangerous  period  of  ambition.  Help  me  to  be  one  with 
Thee,  obedient  to  Thy  will  in  my  heart,  and  faithful  to  all  the  moni 
tions  of  thy  guiding  Spirit.  If  other  twenty  years  pass  by  me,  make 
me  by  so  much  a  nobler,  greater,  better  man. 

The  following  extract  is  made  from  his  journal  for  1840  : — 

I  went  a  Sunday  or  two  ago  to  preach  in  my  native  village.  It  was 
with  no  small  emotion  I  ventured  into  the  old  pulpit,  filled  with  so 
much  holiness  in  my  youth — a  place  so  sacred  that  I  scarcely  dared 
place  my  unholy  feet  therein  when  a  boy.  But  once,  I  remember,  a 
Sunday  noon,  putting  up  a  prayer  in  it,  as  a  place  peculiarly  holy. 
How  well  has  that  prayer  been  answered !  Great  Grod,  I  thank  Thee ; 
for  the  recollection  oi*  that  hour  is  warm  within  me.  I  prayed  for 
wisdom ;  for  the  means  of  learning.  Certainly,  I  have  found  the 
latter.  I  had  the  beginning  of  wisdom  then — the  fear  and  love  of  Grod. 

The  next  spring,  he  left  his  father's  house,  never  to  return  to 
it,  save  at  long  intervals  and  for  hurried  visits.  Devout  mother 
and  downright  simple-minded  father  had  done  their  best  for  him. 
He  had  done  the  rest,  finding  help  in  every  furrow  of  the  farm, 


48 


LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 


in  the  flowers  of  the  meadow,  the  cool  sincerity  of  midnight 
skies,  the  health  of  the  wide  country.  His  own  hands  had 
culled  this  harvest  in  the  fields.  Both  mental  method  and  reli 
gion  had  grown  standing  in  an  open  lot.  Self-denying,  hard 
working,  homely  boy,  blooming  with  ambition  and  hope,  refined 
by  clean  and  pious  thoughts — another  wild-flower  of  New  Eng 
land's  soil — with  all  the  self-reliance  and  sturdiness  of  Franklin, 
and  all  the  religion  and  moral  delicacy  which  Franklin  had  not, 
he  goes  wandering  after  his  work  in  life.  He  never  changed. 
Meadow,  wood,  and  sky  went  with  him,  everywhere  looking 
after  their  dear  child,  lending  fragrance  and  independence  to  the 
last.  Not  toned  in  a  conventional  atmosphere,  having  the 
politeness  which  is  unstudied  motion,  and  more  sincerity  than 
taste,  grasping  strongly  things  rather  than  phrases — a  smooth 
spade-cutter,  a  liberal  pruner,  a  broadcast-sower,  and  judicious 
with  the  harrow — the  old  farm  sends  him  forth  an  Emancipator, 
and  not  an  Amateur. 


THE    LKDOE. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Teaching  in  Boston— Hard  Study — Dejection  and  its  causes— Private  School  in  Water- 
town,  April,  1832 — Theological  Studies — Dr.  Francis — Watertown  people — Enters 
the  Theological  School,  1834 — Views  and  Studies — Contributions  to  the  "Scriptural 
Interpreter  " — Visitation-Day. 

THEODORE  never  forgot  those  winter  evenings,  nor  the  father 
and  mother  who  were  not  abashed  in  their  homespun  though  all 
the  worthies  came.  It  was  a  perpetual  house-warming,  with 
Plutarch  and  Milton  for  guests,  and  Rollin,  Shakespeare,  Homer, 
and  New-England's  Iliad  in  tradition.  The  gods  repaid  the 
hospitable  instinct  by  making  the  rude  fare  ambrosial  and  peren 
nial.  What  culture  is  like  an  inartificial  welcome  to  such  a 
company !  The  youngest  child  put  fresh  lips  to  this  farm-bucket 
dripping  with  wonder  and  delight. 

Now  he  must  leave  the  richly-endowed  college  which  Nature 
extemporized  for  him.  The  farm,  with  its  cottage-house,  and 
the  ledge,  more  liberally  roofed,  behind,  and  the  parental  love 
overarching  all,  cannot  shelter  the  young  student  more.  But 
Theodore  took  the  Faculty  along  with  him. 

On  the  23rd  of  March,  1831,  he  went  to  Boston,  having 
accepted  an  engagement  to  become  assistant  in  a  private  school. 
Eleven  octavos,  the  dii  majores  of  his  little  library,  were  not 
difficult  to  transport.  Among  them  were  Virgil  and  Horace, 
which  he  had  read  some  twenty  times  each,  and  could  repeat  all 
their  finest  pages.  He  was  stimulated  to  pursue  his  mathema 
tical  labours  by  becoming  acquainted  with  Mr.  Francis  Grund, 
who  had  then  hours  for  instruction  in  several  of  the  Boston 
schools  :  also,  the  sight  of  Newton's  "  Principia/'  which  he  could 
neither  borrow  nor  buy,  increased  his  ardour.  The  whole  of 
Homer  was  read  this  year,  a  good  deal  of  Xenophon  and  Demos 
thenes,  ^Eschylus,  and  many  books  of  metaphysics  and  physics. 
The  study  of  German  was  added  to  French  and  Spanish,  and  he 
learned  to  write  as  well  as  read  these  languages. 
5 


50  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

He  boarded  at  first  in  Blossom  Street.  Of  his  life  at  this 
time  we  have  a  trace  in  a  letter  written  from  Rome,  March  23, 
1860,  to  his  friend  Dr.  Howe. 

It  is  twenty-nine  years  to-day  since  I  left  my  father's  house  and 
home  and  sought  a  new  in  Boston.  A  raw  boy,  with  clothes  made  by 
country  tailors,  coarse  shoes,  great  hands,  red  lips,  and  blue  eyes,  I 
went  to  serve  in  a  private  school,  where,  for  fifteen  dollars  a  month 
and  my  board,  I  taught  Latin,  Greek,  subsequently  French  (!),  and 
Spanish — both  which  I  could  read  and  write,  though  not  speak — the 
mathematics,  and  all  sorts  of  philosophy.  I  was  not  twenty-one,  and 
hired  a  man  for  eleven  dollars  a  month  to  take  my  place  for  five  months 
at  home  and  do  the  farm  work.  My  father  refused  to  accept  this,  but 
I  insisted  that  it  would  be  unjust  to  use  me  better  than  the  other  boys 
before  me.  I  taught  in  the  school  six  hours  a  day,  and  from  May  to 
September  seven  ;  but  I  always  had  from  ten  to  twelve  hours  a  day  for 
my  own  private  studies  out  of  school.  You  may  judge  what  sort  of  a 
boy  I  was  from  the  kind  of  man  you  have  known  since.  Life  lay- 
before  me  then  (it  is  all  behind  me  now),  and  I  had  hope  where  now  is 
only  remembrance.  Judge  if  I  did  not  work :  it  makes  my  flesh  creep  to 
think  how  I  used  to  work,  and  how  much  I  learned  that  year,  and  the 
four  next.  Had  not  I  a  constitution  for  a  scholar  ?  Oh,  that  I  had 
known  the  art  of  life,  or  found  some  book  or  some  man  to  tell  me  how 
to  live,  to  study,  to  take  exercise,  &c.  But  I  found  none,  and  so  here  I  am. 

No  doubt  in  this  way  he  planted  deep  in  his  organization  the 
weakness  and  dejection  which  subsequently  appear  from  time  to 
time,  long  indeed  before  any  definite  illness  took  hold  of  him. 
In  consequence,  it  is  not  always  easy  to  separate  his  physical  from 
his  spiritual  condition,  to  decide  when  his  melancholy  was  the  tax 
which  all  powerful  men  pay  while  the  soul  is  struggling  to  know 
itself,  to  repose  in  God,  to  acquire  pre-eminence  of  will,  or  when 
it  was  the  mood  of  an  overworked  brain,  an  eye  that  is  just 
turned  from  gazing  at  the  sun.  Both  causes  marked  themselves 
together  before  he  reached  a  full  and  conscious  maturity.  After 
that  nothing  but  the  invalidism  can  be  traced.  Yet  his  friends 
and  followers  who  sunned  themselves  in  his  warmth,  little  knew 
how  often  it  had  struggled  through  malign  fogs  of  a  neglected 
body  to  fall  upon  them.  It  could  not  have  been  suspected  ;  there 
was  never  a  trace  of  illness  on  the  broad,  fair  countenance  of  his 
thought— neither  sadness  nor  indigestion  ever  went  so  deep. 
The  body  often  drooped  in  private,  but  every  idea  walked  forth 
erect,  its  bloom  untouched  by  care  or  physical  liabilities. 

But  another  cause  sometimes  threw  a  shadow  over  his  day. 
Equal  with  his  thirst  for  truth  was  his  thirst  for  affection.  No 
man  ever  lived  so  resolute  as  he,  so  competent  to  tell  the  truth 


THEODORE   PARKER.        .  51 

and  to  defend  it,  with  such  power  of  concentration,  and  such  a 
sense  of  luxury  in  buffeting  the  great  waves  of  knowledge,  who 
was  at  the  same  time  so  insatiable  for  sympathy  and  friendship. 
"  I  want  some  one  always  in  the  arms  of  my  heart,  to  caress  and 
comfort ;  unless  I  have  this,  I  mourn  and  weep/'  While  he  was 
at  home  this  craving  was  too  sumptuously  fed ;  the  youngest 
ha,d  the  whole  favour  of  the  house.  A  dear  sister,  who  had 
shared  his  tastes  and  was  his  heart's  sworn  companion,  returned 
to  the  old  farm  a  few  years  after  Theodore  had  left  it,  and  died 
there  while  he  was  living  in  Boston,  in  1831.  "Dear  Sister 
Emily  !  How  I  longed  for  her  recovery — how  gladly  I  could 
have  lain  down  my  life  for  her — how,  in  my  boyish  way,  I  asked 
the  Father  of  All  to  spare  her,  though  He  took  my  life  instead." 
How  pitiless  the  streets  of  Boston  seemed  to  this  yearning  heart 
— ten  hours  a  day  of  glorious  study  could  not  hive  up  all  he 
wanted ;  on  the  contrary,  there  was  a  sting  left  in  that  spoil, 
pricking  him  in  jaded  moments  with  home  and  its  artless  delights. 
He  sometimes  threw  himself  almost  with  frenzy  upon  this  breast 
of  knowledge,  that  it  should  soothe  him  while  it  nourished.  But 
companions,  mentors,  muses,  all  the  stately  train,  swept  by  his 
secret  door.  Later  still,  after  the  great  trials  of  his  life  com 
menced,  when  old  friends  grew  very  cool,  and  new  ones  were  slow 
to  take  their  place,  many  words — yes,  and  tears  I — fell  from  this 
defeated  sympathy.  For  he  would  be  loved  by  men,  as  well  as 
love  and  worship  truth.  He  was  never  frigid  enough  to  under 
take  the  role  of  serene  indifference.  Great  learning  could  riot 
isolate  him,  great  labours  could  not  beat  down  his  childish  de 
light  in  human  society  :  he  longed  to  know  men  and  women 
more  intimately.  He  would  pour  out  all  his  riches,  and  yet 
seem  to  forget  that  he  knew  anything,  or  had  any  great  com 
mand,  if  a  friend  came  near,  so  controlled  was  he  by  desire  for 
sympathy,  so  instinctively  did  his  passion  to  feel  and  lavish 
kindness  break  through  and  domineer  at  the  touch  of  a  faithful 
hand.  Toss  a  flower  into  the  bosom  of  this  burly  image-breaker, 
he  caught  and  held  it  tenderly  for  your  sake  and  its  own.  There 
never  was  a  man  of  the  heroic  protesting  sort  more  troubled 
with  the  anxieties  of  love.  Those  who  stood  before  him,  count 
ing  the  grand,  firm  steps  he  took,  could  not  see  the  ensanguined 
tracks  from  which  the  resolute  foot  was  lifted.  Nor  need  they 
now.  Occasionally,  surprise  broke  forth  ;  for  he  could  not  un 
derstand  why  a  man  who  was  seeking  neither  fame  nor  money, 


52  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

but  truth  alone,  should  be  found  so  repellant.  He  desired  love 
so  much,  that  he  did  not  readily  accept  the  category  of  being 
hated  so  thoroughly  ;  and  when  a  little  feeling  mingled  with  the 
surprise,  it  betrayed  his  eagerness  for  human  recognition.  So 
earnest  was  he,  and  so  absorbed  in  his  high  motive,  that  he  always 
underrated  the  effect  of  his  thorough  speech  and  contempt.  He 
was  unconsciously  performing  his  work  before  he  saw  that  enmity 
as  well  as  love  must  needs  bear  testimony  to  its  vigour  and  sin 
cerity.  By-and-bye,  he  accepted  the  eminence  of  being  the  best- 
hated  man  in  America ;  but  it  was  with  a  great  anguish  that 
supplicated  for  more  human  sweetness  in  the  cup  of  truth.  Who 
would  have  thought  it  who  listened  to  his  unpitying  delinea 
tions,  or  stood  by  when  his  mailed  glove  rattled  on  the  pave 
ment,  in  prompt  challenge  to  the  oppressor  ?  It  was  man  whose 
love  he  longed  to  share ;  but  it  was  humanity  which  forbade 
him  unduly  to  conciliate.  It  would  be  very  wonderful  if  no 
effects  of  this  noble  incompatibility  could  be  found  in  his  private 
or  public  thought. 

There  was  reason  enough,  then,  for  melancholy  moods.  His 
eighteen  hours'  daily  work  in  Boston  and  elsewhere,  pursued  for 
half-a-dozen  years,  with  very  scanty  resources  either  of  friend 
ship  or  of  money  to  supply  an  hour  of  recreation,  just  impaired 
a  little  the  perfect  tone  of  a  feeling  which  was  in  youth  sprightly, 
gamesome,  elastic  with  spirits  and  humorous  perception.  He  had 
no  mercy  on  his  body ;  it  always  seemed  to  him  capable  of  un 
limited  endurance.  He  threw  himself  upon  the  tree  of  know 
ledge,  almost  fierce  to  feed  and  to  assimilate :  he  never  knew 
when  to  leave  off.  He  derived  from  his  tough  and  simple 
paternal  ancestors  a  great  ambition  of  health  :  it  tyrannized  for  a 
long  time  over  the  fatal  legacy  of  his  mother. 

Here  are  excellent  "  canons  of  self-discipline/'  which  were 
drawn  up  when  he  was  in  the  Divinity  School,  after  his  ill- 
treated  body  grew  revengeful. 

I.  Avoid  excess  in  meat  and  drink. 
II.  Take  exercise  in  the  air  at  least  three  hours  a-day. 
III.  Always  get  six  hours'  sleep — more  is  better ;  seven  hours'  cer 
tainly  ;  eight  hours'  very  often,  and  always  would  be  more 
suitable  and  proper. 

Rule  No.  3  shows  plainly  that  his  daily  average  of  sleep  was 
less  than  six  hours,  with  daily  virtuous  intentions  to  increase 


THEODORE   PARKER.  53 

the  amount.  The  "  intellectual  canons "  were  more  strictly 
obeyed ;  they  show  how  ill  the  other  canons  must  have  fared  in 
practice. 

I.  Exhaust  a  subject  when  curiosity  is  awake.  Sometimes  this  is 
impossible.  Note  the  subject  in  a  book,  and  examine  as  soon 
as  possible  in  this  manner : — 

1.  By  finding  out  what  I  really  know  upon  the  subject. 

2.  Obtaining  clear  and  distinct  notions  in  some  way. 

3.  By  stating  in  words  the  result  of  my  study,  and  repeat 

ing  till  it  has  made  a  deep  impression.     Sometimes 
write  them  in  this  book. 

4.  If  historical,  settle  time ;  writers  who  relate  it,  their 

character. 

5.  The  cause. 

6.  The  effect. 

II.  Keep  the  mind  obedient  to  the  will,  so  as  to  be  independent  of  ex 
ternal  affairs.  This  cannot  be  completely  effected,  but  may 
be  in  a  great  measure,  by  the  use  of  certain  intermedia,  e.  g , 
"  words  of  poets,"  &c. 

In  other  words,  he  had  a  regular  posse  recruited  from  all 
ranks  of  letters,  which  he  employed  to  break  up  his  reveries  and 
distractions.  While  he  was  engaged  in  long  investigations  these 
were  mustered,  in  readiness  to  march  in  and  carry  off  all  rude  or 
dissolute  disturbers. 

Here  are  the  other  canons,  moral  and  affectionate. 

I.  Preserve  devoutness,  by 

1.  Contemplation  of  nature, 

2.  Of  the  attributes  of  God, 

3.  Of  my  own  dependence  ; 

4.  By  prayer,  at  night  and  morn,  and  at  all  times  when 

devout  feelings  come  over  me. 

II.  Preserve  gratitude  by  reflections  upon  God's  mercies  to  me. 

1.  In  giving  blessings  unasked. 

2.  In  answering  prayers. 

III.  Restrain  licentiousness  of  imagination,  which  comprehends 
many  particulars  that  must  not  be  committed  to  paper,  lest 
the  paper  blush. 

This  is  the  old  monastic  foe  which  infests  an  ill-ventilated 
and  over-studious  solitude.  The  petulant  body  began  to  miss 
the  old  farm-ledge,  "  sun-blanched  the  live-long  summer/'  and 
the  expeditions  of  his  guileless  heart  after  things  of  its  own 
kind  in  the  woods  and  fields. 


54  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

Here  are  words  recorded  later,  but  referrible  to  these  earlier 
causes. 

I  know  not  why,  but  heavy  is  my  heart ; 

The  sun  all  day  may  shine,  the  birds  may  sing, 
And  men  and  women  blithely  play  their  part ; 

Yet  still  my  heart  is  sad.     I  cannot  smile 
As  I  could  smile  all  day  in  long  past  youth ! 

There  is  no  art  my  sorrows  to  beguile. 
Daily  from  utmost  heaven  deseendeth  truth, 
I  look  upon  her  with  an  unmoved  face, 
And  feel  no  leaping  heart  when  fixed  in  her  embrace. 

It  is  plain  that  these  accesses  of  sadness  may  be  credited  to  a 
jaded  spirit. 

The  other  morning  I  arose  and  one  side  was  numb;  both  hands 
were  so,  the  left  mainly.  The  right  soon  recovered,  and  I  shaved,  but 
the  left  kept  mainly  numb  all  the  morning,  with  pricking  pains  from 
time  to  time. 

These  symptoms  be  had  also  when  he  was  only  18. 

I  did  not  know  how  ill  I  was  till  I  came  here  and  find  that  all  my 
life  is  gone.  I  care  for  nothing  save  my  duty,  and  that  is  not  so 
desirable  as  once.  I  feel  like  a  heart-broken  and  ruined  man,  and 
think  sometimes  it  was  a  mercy  if  Providence  would  take  me  back : 
not  less  a  mercy  to  others  than  to  me.  Still  I  will  not  murmur,  but 
hopefully  bear  up. 

Here  is  a  health-gauge  which  be  invented. 
Scale  of  health.    "When  able  to  write  the  sermon  Monday  morn 
ing  =  A.    Evening  =  — .    Tuesday  morning,  B.    Evening,  —  ;  and  so 

2t  J 

on,  C,  D,  E,  F.    If  not  all  =  0. 

F 

Have  done  little  all  the  week.    Health  =  — .      This  is  too  near  an 

tB 

approach  to  O  for  this  season  of  the  year  (September).  I  have  not 
begun  this  month  so  ill  for  some  years.  If  I  had  any  of  the  usual 
humdrum  parishes,  I  would  leave  it  for  a  year  and  go  off  to  Europe. 
But  this  is  a  parish  which  I  cannot  leave.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  squan 
dered  a  fortune ;  for  at  the  age  of  39  I  am  ill,  and  lose  more  than  half 
my  time,  while  my  father  lived  a  hale  man  till  77.  Por  the  next  six 
months  I  will  take  especial  care  of  my  health,  making  all  else  bend  to 
that,  and  that  to  nothing. 

But  he  plunges  straightway  into  researches  for  his  work  on 
the  Development  of  Christianity,  and  with  lecturing  and  preach 
ing  still  carries  the  load  of  two  or  three  men. 

In  1842,  be  writes,  during  June,  a  little  heart- touched  as 
well  as  ill : — 

I  have  done  nothing  for  a  month — am  stupid  beyond  measure — was 


THEODORE   PARKER,  55 

never  in  such  a  state  before — never  knew  till  now  the  sadness  of  that 
perpetual  disappointment  of  hoping,  hoping,  and  finding  nothing  come 
of  that  hope.  But  I  submit.  I  think  I  should  complete  the  Apa^a  of 
my  life  well  by  dying  next  autumn,  after  the  book  is  ended,  but  can't 
tell  if  it  will  then  end.  External  sadness  is  in  store  for  me,  no  doubt, 
but  the  light  is  all  bright  and  beautiful  within  me. 

Here  is  a  glimpse  of  some  experience  whose  root  is  obscurer 
than  the  body.  It  seems  at  first  a  shallow  inood,  but  deepens 
rapidly  to  the  whelming  point. 

This  whole  week  I  have  had  few  thoughts  and  few  sentiments.  I  am 
sorry  to  end  and  begin  a  year  (1840-41)  in  this  way,  but  I  can't  help 
it.  Oh,  how  our  life  is  streaked  with  sadness!  I  shall  begin  to  be 
lieve,  with  some  weeper,  that  all  the  birds  sing  in  the  key  of  grief,  for 
the  stars  look  melancholy  now  to  me. 

My  thoughts  have  been  low.  I  know  not  why ;  for  I  am  well  in 
body  and  temperate  in  meats  and  drinks.  Vae  mihi,  quantus  dolor  in 
corde — dolor  nunquam  oculis  humanis  spectandus.  Sed  nunc,  etiam 
mine,  Deus,  speram  in  Te.  Speram !  dico  ?  Non — Tibi  meipsum  com- 
mitto,  tua  in  inanu  recubans,  molliter.  Haud  metuam  quod  mihi  vir 
potest  facere.  De  profundis  clamavi.* 

But  a  few  months  after,  the  old  health  blooms  again : — 

There  is  no  end  to  the  development  of  the  soul.  I  feel  the  bird  ele 
ment  is  wakened  in  me  anew.  Wants  of  my  nature  never  satisfied, 
but  drugged  to  sleep  by  the  will,  open  now  their  beaks,  flutter  their 
wings,  and  try  the  thin  air.  I  feel  a  new  development  of  youth.  I 
thought  once  it  would  never  return  .  .  .  there  is  a  resurrection  of 
myself.  Last  night,  for  the  first  time  these  many  months,  the  lyric  in 
spiration  of  joy  came  over  me.  My  prayers  ascend — home  has  a  new 
charm.  I  start  and  tremble,  and  a  new  depth  of  Christian  feeling 
opens  to  my  eyes.  Blessed  be  God  for  all ! 

Confinement  and  over-study,  with  deficiency  of  friendship, 
were  causes  which  exaggerated  a  sentimental  tendency  of  his 
mind.  If  he  could  have  found  his  peer  to  live  with  in  these 
early  days,  one  earnest  and  strong,  capable  of  invading  his  tired 
and  dissatisfied  moments  with  healthy  confidence,  he  would  have 
spoiled  less  paper  with  unquotable  verses.  Writing  does  not 
drain  off  these  humours  ;  like  tapping,  it  promotes  secretion. 
A  hearty  slap  on  the  back  from  a  friend's  hand  would  have 
shaken  all  the  ink  from  his  pen.  A  friend  might  have  harm 
lessly  received  and  dissipated  these  flamboyant  moods,  which 
grew  to  self-consciousness  on  paper.  In  default  of  a  friend  he 

*  Ah  me  !  what  pain  in  my  heart — pain  never  to  be  seen  by  mortal  eyes.  Yet  now, 
even  now,  0  God,  let  me  hope  in  Thee.  Hope,  did  I  say  ?  No  ;  rather  I  commit  myself 
to  Thee,  in  Thy  hand  gently  lying.  Let  me  not  fear  what  man  can  do.  Out  of  the 
depths  have  I  cried. 


56  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

associated  with  the  moods.  I  think  he  never  quite  recovered 
from  this  effect  of  his  scholarly  isolation  ;  a  lively  fancy  and  a 
great  affectional  instinct  went  sometimes  wandering  into  vague 
places.  The  noblest  objects  had  occasionally  a  wavering  outline, 
as  palms  and  temples  seen  through  the  trembling  columns  of 
tropical  heat.  But  a  true  friendship  always  went  through  him, 
like  a  breeze  blowing  landward  which  dissipates  the  flickering 
scene.  His  friendships  were  of  the  manliest  and  simplest  kind, 
honoured  by  duty  and  worship,  and  vitalized  by  all  a  woman's 
sensibility.  Friendship,  humanity,  and  truth  always  startled 
the  brooding  sentiment,  and  broke  up  its  momentary  rest.  But 
it  was  sometimes  built  in  high  places,  on  the  "  coigns  of 
vantage  "  of  his  finest  thoughts. 

For  the  sake  of  connecting  these  moods  with  their  physical 
and  moral  causes  we  have  travelled  beyond  our  dates. 

His  early  predilection  for  the  profession  of  minister  had  never 
really  been  impaired  by  an  occasional  aspiration  for  some  other 
career.  Echoes  of  distinguished  names  stirred  his  imagination, 
a  developing  capacity  offered  success  wherever  he  might  choose 
to  seek  it.  But  the  whole  course  of  his  thought  had  already 
consecrated  him  to  the  service  of  truth  and  humanity ;  nothing 
could  overcome  this  original  bias.  It  was  in  his  simple  disposi 
tion,  in  his  exacting  moral  sense,  in  the  joy  of  his  piety.  His 
powers  asserted  their  capability  for  any  work  which  he  chose  to 
cut  out  for  them  ;  but  the  quality  of  his  motives  made  him 
fastidious. 

He  writes  in  1848: — 

Several  persons  of  late — as  well  as  formerly — have  talked  to  me  about 
going  to  Congress,  as  Representative  or  Senator.  To  which  there  are 
two  objections : — I.  Nobody  would  send  me.  I  don  t  believe  any  town  in 
Massachusetts  would  give  me  any  post  above  that  of  Hog-Reeve,  and  I 
don't  feel  competent  for  that  office — a  man  in  spectacles  would  not  run 
well  after  swine.  II.  Politics  are  not  my  vocation,  nor  yet  my  desire. 
I  mean  to  labour  for  ideas — to  set  men  a-thinking.  I  feel  as  if  born 
for  a  pulpit,  if  for  anything.  If  I  could  be  well,  well  enough  to  work, 
and  do  a  man's  duty,  I  should  be  glad ;  yet  that  is  not  a  thing  I  ever 
mention  in  my  prayers.  I  am  content,  yes,  content  to  pay  the  price  of 
violating  the  laws  of  the  body  in  struggling  for  an  education,  though  I 
knew  not  what  I  did. 

Father!  help  me  to  live  better:  more  useful,  more  acceptable  to 
Thee.  As  the  years  go  by  me,  may  I  grow  in  manliness  and  all  noble 
qualities.  Teach  me  Truth,  Justice,  Love,  and  Trust.  Let  me  not  he 
idle,  nor  unfaithful .  Give  me  a  clean  and  holy  life,  and  may  each  year 
bring  me  nearer  to  the  measure  of  a  man. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  57 

That  was  always  the  shaping  prayer  of  his  practical  and  ideal 
life.  In  Boston  he  commenced  his  first  open  preparation  for 
this  future  work,  in  his  studies  which  looked  towards  the  Theo 
logical  School.  He  must  first  get  money  enough  to  carry  him 
there.  But  as  he  managed  to  save  only  three  or  four  dollars  out 
of  each  month's  earning,  the  prospect  was  not  bright.  The 
Boston  experiment  only  lasted  till  April,  1832  :  then  he  would 
venture  one  of  his  own  at  Watertown.  During  the  winter,  he 
gave  his  first  lecture,  before  the  Lexington  Lyceum  ;  the  subject 
was  the  History  of  Poland,  selected  on  account  of  the  enthusiasm 
for  the  Poles  which  was  then  travelling  through  New  England. 

His  life  in  Boston  was  desolate  enough  that  winter.  No 
friends — "  nothing  but  thoughts,  and  books,  books,  books."  But 
he  records,  in  his  letter  from  Santa  Cruz  [1859],  one  benefit  which 
he  derived  from  being  in  the  city  at  that  time. 

Por  a  year,  though  horn  and  bred  among  Unitarians,  I  had  attended 
the  preachings  of  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  the  most  powerful  orthodox 
minister  in  New  England,  then  in  the  full  hlaze  of  his  talents  and 
reputation,  and  stirred  also  with  polemic  zeal  against  "  Unitarians, 
Universalists,  Papists,  and  Infidels."  I  went  through  one  of  his  "  pro 
tracted  meetings,"  listening  to  the  fiery  words  of  excited  men,  and 
hearing  the  most  frightful  doctrines  set  forth  in  sermon,  song,  and 
prayer,  I  greatly  respected  the  talents,  the  zeal,  and  the  enterprise  of 
that  able  man,  who  certainly  taught  me  much ;  but  I  came  away  with 
no  confidence  in  his  theology.  The  better  I  understood  it,  the  more 
self-contradictory,  unnatural,  and  hateful  did  it  seem.  A  year  of  his 
preaching  about  finished  all  my  respect  for  the  Calvinistic  scheme  of 
theology.* 

He  took  great  pains,  then,  to  understand  the  scheme  which 
afterwards  he  attacked  so  unsparingly,  and  as  its  disciples  aver, 
so  ignorantly.  Certainly  it  was  an  able  advocate  of  Calvinism 
who  indoctrinated  him  with  disgust  for  it.  He  remembered  also 
the  great  features  of  revival  meetings  ;  and  in  his  sermons  "  On 
False  and  True  Theology/'  and  "  The  Eevival  of  Religion  which 
we  need,"  preached  in  1858  during  the  great  revival,  he 
from  the  confidence  of  personal  experience. 

The  idea  of  going  to  Watertown  to  open  a  private  school  was 
probably  suggested  to  him  by  relations,  who  were  farmers  living 

"  March  31,  1852.     Old  Dr.  Beecher  came  to  see  me,  and  spent  an  hour  and  a  half, 
ill  me  who  you  are,'  he  said,  '  where  you  came  from,  and  how  you  got  so  far  from  the 
common  track.'     I  did  so,   and  we  had  a  quiet  talk.     He  is  genial,  generous,  active- 
minded,  and  expressed  a  strong  sympathy  for  me,  and  a  good  deal  of  feeling  of  kindliness 
towards  me." 


58  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

in  the  north  part  of  that  town.  Thither  he  went  in  April,  1832, 
without  a  pupil  engaged,  and  without  money  enough  to  make  the 
few  needed  preparations.  He  found  a  boarding-place  at  Mr. 
Nathaniel  Broad's,  who  lived  about  half-way  between  the  village 
and  Newton-Corner,  opposite  the  estate  of  Dr.  Morse.  Part  of 
the  inducement  to  lodge  there  lay  in  an  old  bakery,  the  second 
story  of  which  he  leased  of  the  proprietor.  He  assisted  in 
flooring  it,  made  a  rude  wainscot,  constructed  a  dozen  desks,  and 
shortly  opened  school  with  a  force  of  two  pupils,  one  of  whom 
he  asked  to  come  gratis.  Collegiate  and  theological  studies  were 
going  on  all  the  while.  Pupils  came  slowly,  dropping  in  till  he 
had  enough  to  divide  into  an  upper  and  a  lower  class.  Members 
of  the  former  paid  each  five  dollars  a  quarter,  and  of  the  latter 
four  dollars.  If  he  found  a  boy  or  girl  in  the  town  too  poor  to 
pay  him  anything,  he  invited  such  to  come  in.*  But  he  did  not 
wait  long  for  a  full  school,  and  the  number  rose,  the  first  year  to 
35,  afterwards  to  54.  Most  all  of  them  were  paying  scholars. 
He  was  a  child  with  all  of  them,  and  dearly  beloved,  for  he  had 
sweet  and  gentle  ways.  But  he  felt  great  responsibility  in 
undertaking  to  teach,  and  sometimes  he  doubted  if  he  had  the 
talent  of  imparting  anything.  It  fairly  oppressed  him,  and  he 
took  endless  pains  with  the  young  minds ;  it  touched  him  to  see 
their  confidence  in  him.  But  he  was  grave  too,  and  looked  after 
justice  strictly  ;  he  had  authority — only  the  children  did  not 
know  it.  He  managed  to  govern  with  little  demonstration. 

They  brought  him  flowers,  and  welcomed  him  to  their  out-of- 
school  games ;  he  loved  to  watch  all  their  ways. 

In  one  thing  he  had  unlimited  confidence — the  ability  of  the 
children  to  learn  any  task  he  chose  to  set.  This  sometimes 
startled  them,  and  it  appeared  as  if  he  went  too  fast.  Then  he 
would  draw  them  out,  and  restore  courage  by  skilful  questioning. 
In  this  way,  too,  he  would  make  them  answer  their  own  ques 
tions,  till  he  had  an  assistant  in  the  awakened  power  of  each 
one's  reflection.  He  had  a  great  aversion  to  the  text-books  of 
Natural  Theology,  declaring  that  they  were  attempts  to  prove 
what  no  child  ever  thought  of  doubting  ;  and  he  would  often 
bring  the  books  to  shame  before  the  children,  by  drawing  out 
their  intuitions.  He  loved  to  teach  by  means  of  objects  ;  and 

»  But  after  he  had  admitted  a  coloured  girl  who  had  been  sent  to  him,  he  consented 
to  dismiss  her  in  deference  to  the  objections  of  some  of  his  patrons.  This  he  always  con 
fessed  with  mortification. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  59 

when  he  took  his  class  abroad,  the  fields  seemed  expressly  pro 
vided  with  illustrations  and  representatives  of  some  fair  thought. 
All  the  flowers  and  plants  of  the  country  round  were  familiar  to 
him.  and  the  ways  of  birds  and  animals  ;  he  tried  to  cultivate 
the  observing  faculty  in  the  children.  One  of  them  remembers 
his  lesson  when  the  wind  blew  a  trumpet-flower  to  his  feet  from 
the  vine  that  overran  her  father's  porch. 

A  letter  from  Rev.  Charles  Briggs,  of  Lexington,  introduced 
him  to  Dr.  Francis,  who  was  then  minister  of  the  first  parish  in 
Watertown.  In  that  red  brick  house,  near  the  Charles  River, 
were  many  books  in  many  languages,  a  genial  and  liberal-minded 
host,  a  kind  and  cheerful  wife.  All  these  extended  hospitality 
to  the  brave  young  student.  Dr.  Francis  was  among  the  earliest 
of  New  England  scholars  to  read  and  appreciate  a  German  book. 
His  Latin,  Greek,  and  Hebrew,  were  in  admirable  condition. 
Modern  languages  were  not  neglected,  but  among  them  German 
was  especially  cultivated.  Here,  then,  were  Dogmatik,  Meta- 
physik,  and  Hermeneutik  for  Theodore,  with  a  competent  guide 
to  hold  the  clue  for  him.  The  two  years  spent  with  these  ad 
vantages  were  always  gratefully  remembered  by  him.  Theodore's 
questions  accumulated  frightfully  when  he  found  such  a  hospitable 
ear  for  them.  He  never  forgot  to  say  that  he  was  in  debt  to  the 
free  and  scholarly  minister,  who  made  a  friend  of  the  bashful 
student  and  favoured  the  generous  unfolding  of  his  mind,*  and 
to  the  wife  who  soothed  him  with  home-like  associations. 

The  preaching  of  Dr.  Francis  must  also  be  reckoned  among 
the  things  which  helped  Theodore  on  his  way.  His  sermons 
were  the  liberal  efforts  of  a  mind  constantly  studying  and  in 
quiring,  welcoming  light,  and  bold  to  speculate.  They  were  free 
from  dogmatism,  perhaps  disinclined  to  definite  and  final  state 
ments.  The  tendency  stimulated  Theodore  to  form  his  own 
opinions.  But,  above  all,  Dr.  Francis  was  a  humane  preacher. 

Theodore  soon  became  superintendent  of  the  Sunday  school. 
Up  the  aisle  of  the  old  meeting-house  he  ventures  on  this  new 
mission,  very  awkward  and  diffident,  a  little  uncertain  whether 
people  would  like  him,  in  a  suit  constructed  on  the  very  frontiers 
of  economy,  which  appeared  so  often  and  so  long  that  a  good 
many  persons  pretend  to  recollect  it.  But  when  he  began  to 
speak,  in  his  gentle  and  pious  way,  everybody  was  glad. 

*  In  his  Journal  of  a  later  date  he  says  :  "  Then  I  walked  long  days  in  the  strength 
of  the  meat  I  ate." 


60  LIFE   AND    COEKESPONDENCE   OP 

He  also  undertook  a  Bible-class,  in  a  Socratic  style,  making 
the  pupils  themselves  discover  what  they  had  to  learn.  The 
doctrine  of  plenary  inspiration  was  not  held  by  Unitarians,  but 
they  had  a  vague  opinion  that  everything  of  consequence  in  the 
Bible  was  suggested  or  preserved  in  no  ordinary  way.  Theo 
dore  would  read  portions  to  his  class,  and  invite  them  to  exercise 
their  common-sense  upon  them — "  Must  a  man  be  supernaturally 
inspired  to  say  or  do  this — did  this  require  a  special  sugges 
tion  ? "  But  he  did  not  yet  carry  this  to  the  criticism  of  a 
supernatural  element  in  the  nature  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles, 
or  in  the  prevailing  spirit  of  the  New  Testament. 

Mr.  Broad,  his  landlord,  died  ;  and  Theodore,  very  tender  and 
helpful,  was  of  great  use  at  home.  Several  of  his  pupils  lived 
in  the  same  house,  and  he  undertook  the  general  charge  of  their 
manners  and  morals.  He  sat  up  very  late — there  was  never  a 
drop  of  oil  in  his  lamp  the  next  morning ;  "  not  that  there  was 
any  scrimping  in  Mrs.  Broad's  house  " — her  lamps  emulated  her 
name — but  Theodore  could  hold  out  to  burn  the  longest.  He 
was  up  at  daylight,  sawed  and  split  the  wood  for  the  school  and 
family,  swept  out  and  dusted  the  school -room,  and  took  a  walk 
of  three  or  four  miles. 

His  Cyclopean  wall  began  each  evening  to  the  sound  of  music, 
for  he  had  a  chum,  who  was  unhappily  seized  about  the  same 
moment  after  tea  with  a  tendency  to  breathe  his  soul  out  through 
the  flute.  Theodore  began  with  mild  expostulations,  when 
Amphion  Sanger  seized  his  melancholy  reed,  but  the  tenure  of 
the  chamber  covered  mutual  privileges ;  and  the  chum  blew 
himself  out  by  nine  o'clock,  but  Theodore  would  sit  up  till  the 
lamp  went  out  at  two.  Between  the  strains,  and  while  Amphion 
wetted  the  joints  and  called  up  the  next  melody,  he  could  snatch 
moments  of  studious  oblivion.* 

This  routine  went  on  for  two  years.     Twice  a  week  he  walked 

*  Theodore  held  to  the  Hellenistic  interpretation  of  the  word  Music,  which  was  a  pur 
suit  of  all  the  liberal  arts.  The  thoughts  of  great  men  built  lofty  harmonies  in  his  mind. 
But  he  was  heretical  on  the  subject  of  Music.  When  Mr.  Cranch,  the  painter,  and  Mr. 
J.  S.  Dwight,  the  musical  journalist,  were  in  the  Divinity  School,  they  sometimes  met  to 
meditate  the  muse  upon  a  slender  reed.  Theodore  bore  it  fora  long  time  without  flinch 
ing.  "But  on  one  occasion,"  says  Mr.  Cranch,  "there  was  a  movement  in  the  entry  just 
outside  our  door,  executed  upon  a  peculiar,  and  by  no  means  musical  instrument — a  sort 
of  obligate  ad  libitum  bass  thrown  in  as  accompaniment  to  our  strains.  On  opening  the 
door  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  these  strange  sounds,  there  was  Theodore,  who  had  left 
his  folios  of  the  Latin  Fathers,  had  rushed  into  the  cellar,  and  brought  up  a  wooden-horse, 
saw,  and  log  of  wood,  on  which  he  was  exercising  his  vigorous  sinews— see-saw,  see-saw 
— to  our  utter  discomfiture  and  amusement.  As  for  Theodore,  he  barely  smiled." 


THEODORE  PARKER.  61 

to  Cambridge  to  take  lessons  in  Hebrew  of  Mr.  Thurston,  then 
a  member  of  the  Theological  School,  and  now  settled  at  Belmont  ;* 
afterwards  he  walked  as  far  as  Charlestown  to  be  instructed  by 
Mr.  Seixas,  a  Jew  ;  Greek  and  Latin  literature,  German  meta 
physics,  as  much  political  economy  as  he  could  find,  mathematics 
and  theology,  missal  reading,  Hebrew,  and  a  little  Syriac,  drained 
good  Mrs.  Broad's  midnight  lamp. 

But  a  fairer  light  began  to  gild  the  old  quartos,  and  red- 
letter  the  pages  of  dingy  German  paper.  For  Miss  Lydia 
D.  Cabot  was  not  only  a  teacher  in  the  Sunday-school,  but  she 
boarded  at  the.  same  house  with  Theodore  ;  and  this  gradually 
became  of  great  importance  to  the  young  student,  who  had 
hitherto  resented  interruption.  Now  the  flowers  discovered  in 
the  fields  along  the  birch  and  alder-fringed  bank  of  the  Charles 
were  not  brought  home  for  botanizing.  The  walks  themselves 
were  not  companionless.  There  is  a  charming  view  from  Wel 
lington  Hill,  and  some  old  oaks  of  famous  girth  not  far  off, 
which  were  great  favourites.  Beaver  Creek  runs  from  the  oaks 
through  meadow  land,  till  in  two  miles  or  more  it  finds  the 
Charles.  The  river  has  pleasant  reaches  near  the  Waltham 
factories.  Smooth  Helmet  Hill  lifts  its  crest  from  a  wide  sweep 
of  apple  orchards,  and  Prospect  Hill  is  not  too  far,  when  for 
some  reason  every  step  is  beguiled  of  weariness.  Mrs.  Broad's 
oil  must  eke  the  night  out  further,  for  by  day  the  books  were 
less  admired. 

Prseposito  florem  prsetulit  officio. 

TO  MISS  LYDIA  D.  CABOT  IN  BOSTON. 

Watertown,  Tuesday  Eve,  Oct.  30,  1833. 

I  walked  to  father's ;  he  soon  returned  from  church,  and  I  caught 
him  in  the  garden,  and  informed  him  of  the  "fatal  "  affair,  if  you  will 
call  it  So. 

The  tear  actually  started  to  his  aged  eye.  "  Indeed,"  said  he.  "  In 
deed,"  I  replied, "  and  attempted  to  describe  some  of  your  good  qualities." 
"It  is  a  good  while  to  wait,"  he  observed.  "  Yes,  but  we  are  young, 
and  I  hope  I  have  your  approval."  "  Yes,  yes !  I  should  be  pleased 
with  anyone  you  would  select ;  but,  Theodore,"  said  he,  and  the  words 
sank  deep  into  my  heart,  "  you  must  be  a  good  man  and  a  good  husband, 
which  is  a  great  undertaking." 

I  promised  all  good  fidelity ;  and  may  Heaven  see  it  kept ! 

Oct.  31. 

[  have  attacked  Mr.  Herodotus  with  renewed  vigour  this  week.  I 
purchased  a  small  volume  which  contains  all  his  writings,  and  am  not 
now  compelled  to  wait  for  Mr.  Francis  to  bring  volumes  from  the 


62  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

college  ;  those  are,  however,  to  be  consulted  at  leisure.  I  intended  to 
finish  the  work  to-night,  but  fear  I  shall  not  be  able.  Now,  I  feel  a 
new  pleasure  in  the  discharge  of  all  my  duties.  I  love  my  books  the 
more,  my  school  the  more,  mankind  the  more,  and  even,  I  believe,  my 
God  the  more,  from  loving  you. 

Nov.  21. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  cheer  your  absence  and  enliven  my  spirits  a 
little  by  going  this  afternoon  to  Uncle  Clark's,  though  I  shall  still  find 
ten  hours  for  study,  reading,  and  writing. 

Dec.  5. 

"What  shall  I  say  to  you  for  sitting  until  ten  o'clock  to  write  ?  "Why, 
ten  is  as  bad  for  you  as  one  for  me,  and  I  would  sometimes  gladly  ex 
tend  my  lucubrations  nearer  morning,  but  have  kept  my  promise  thus 
far  with  all  good  fidelity. 

Dec.  27. 

It  has  been  in  other  times  than  this  my  highest  pleasure  thus  to  pass 
my  time,  thus  to  spend  my  nights,  in  "  high  concord  with  the  god-like 
past,"  to  collect  my  own  thoughts  and  search  for  new.  But  now  I  find 
a  new  pleasure  which,  with  a  louder,  sweeter  voice,  speaks  to  the  heart 
and  tells  another  tale. 

Thus  was  planted  the  tender  root  of  a  happiness  which,  in 
after-years,  helped  him  to  tolerate  contempt  and  bitterness,  and 
to  temper  the  dejection  which  they  brought.  When  disturbed 
and  repulsed  abroad,  he  always  hastened  home  to  this  reassuring 
presence  ;  there  his  wounds  were  touched  with  gentleness. 

This  Watertown  season  must  have  been  very  delightful  now. 
The  school  was  less  oppressive,  and  he  was  led  somewhat  more 
into  society.  There  were  many  fine  people  among  the  farmers 
in  North  Watertown.  His  cousins,  the  Clarks,  were  bright  and 
sympathetic,  and  old  "  Uncle  Peter  "  was  Theodore's  firm  friend, 
a  farmer,  intelligent  and  fond  of  reading,  but,  better  than  all, 
endowed  with  a  sweetness  and  liberality,  and  a  real  courtesy, 
which  mere  culture  can  never  bring.  These  honest  men  and 
women  understood  Theodore,  and  never  forsook  him  when  his 
opinions  were  most  divergent.  Whoever  was  afterwards  settled 
over  the  First  Parish  in  Watertown.  found  that  it  was  no  tax 
upon  his  courage  to  exchange  with  him.  The  act  was  not 
dangerous  there,  as  elsewhere,  and  involved  no  loss  of  position 
or  influence.  On  the  contrary,  if  the  clergyman  himself  under 
took  to  vindicate  Mr.  Parker,  or  to  share  his  views,  these 
fanners  were  first  to  countenance  and  welcome  it.  Old  Deacon 
Stone  never  sat  a  formalist  in  that  meeting-house ;  and  his  heart 
was  true  to  the  young  teacher,  whose  truth  and  innocence  he 


THEODORE   PARKER.  63 

remembered.  The  Crafts,  the  Baraards,  the  Stones,  the  Clarkes 
— Theodore  would  gratefully  repeat  their  names  in  this  con 
nection — were  the  first  to  know  what  he  was,  and  the  first 
among  New  England  parishes,  not  his  own,  to  rejoice  when 
they  saw  him  standing  in  their  pulpit.  In  his  earliest  inter 
course  with  these  warm,  unsophisticated  people,  he  used  to  fill 
their  hearts  with  his  piety  and  gentleness,  and  inspire  them 
with  his  great  ambition  to  learn  the  truth.  The  opinions  were 
of  less  consequence  ;  they  knew  their  man.  And  so  it  might 
have  been  everywhere  else,  if  his  beautiful  disposition  could 
have  been  the  harbinger  of  his  doctrine.  But  there  was  neither 
diletanteism  nor  dogmatism  on  those  rich  slopes  where  he 
passed  his  social  hours,  so  that  his  pure  motive  was  instantly 
discerned. 

He  was  also  recognized  by  some  families  of  more  wealth  and 
cultivation,  but  who  cherished,  like  the  farmers,  simplicity,  inde 
pendence  and  humanity — one  or  all  of  these  high  qualities. 
Among  the  Whites,  and  Thaxters,  and  Bigelows,  and  Shannons, 
he  had  always  friends,  and  sometimes  vigorous  disciples.  How 
delightful  it  is  to  inscribe  all  these  names  upon  a  page  of  his 
memorial !  and  those,  still  living,  who  own  the  names,  will 
tolerate  the  freedom  from  one  who  is  not  a  stranger,  for  the  sake 
of  love  and  old  companionship. 

After  teaching  his  school  for  two  years,  he  reckoned  he  had 
money  enough  to  venture  with  to  the  Theological  School,  where 
a  frugal  youth  could  live  for  less  than  200  dollars  a-year,  all 
expenses  included.  He  would  still  eke  out  his  income  with 
teaching,  and  perhaps  with  writing. 

It  was  not  a  comfortable  day  for  him  when  the  leave-taking 
came.  The  scholars  had  devised  to  show  their  respect  and  love 
by  a  little  presentation-scene,  which  was  managed  to  surprise 
him.  A  neat  speech  was  made  by  Master  Briggs,  and  the  silver 
cup  being  then  revealed,  Theodore  seized  it  and  vanished  ab 
ruptly  into  the  entry,  being  no  longer  fit  to  be  seen.  The 
scholars  thought  he  had  rushed  into  Mrs.  Broad's,  perhaps  to 
execute  one  of  the  delotic  *  movements  to  which  he  was  sub 
ject.  He  was  not  in  condition,  for  some  minutes,  to  return  and 
dismiss  the  school. 

A  word  from  the  Greek  is  used,   meaning  gesture  and  motion  demonstrative  of 
internal  feeling,  to  avoid  applying  the  word  dancing  to  Theodore's  rather  elephantine 


64  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

He  never  had  any  trouble  with  his  scholars,  for  he  never 
stooped  to  coarse  methods  of  maintaining  influence.  When  he 
was  afterwards  Chairman  of  the  School  Committee  of  West 
Roxbury,  he  introduced  a  rule  that  no  teacher  should  inflict 
chastisement  upon  a  pupil  without  bringing  in  some  ostensible 
reason  for  it.  When  asked  what  he  intended  by  proposing  that 
the  reason  should  be  "ostensible" — "Why  don't  you  say  real?" 
he  replied  that  the  teacher  could  then  say  he  punished  for 
whispering,  or  for  being  out  of  place,  while  the  real  reason 
might  be  that  he  got  up  feeling  very  cross,  or, — added  he,  in 
a  whisper,  "  because  the  boy  hadn't  got  a  pretty  sister/'  This 
also  required  explanation,  and  he  told  them  that  he  had  two 
pupils  in  Watertown,  Frank  and  Harriett,  brother  and  sister. 
Harriett  was  handsome,  and  a  great  favourite,  with  whom  he 
used  to  read  and  take  long  walks.  Frank  was  disobedient  one 
day,  and  was  threatened  with  chastisement  after  school,  if  the 
offence  was  repeated.  Frank  accordingly  repeated  it,  and  was 
told  to  stop  after  the  rest  were  dismissed.  "  But  upon  approach 
ing  him  with  my  ferule,  he  looked  too  much  like  Harriett.  I 
had  to  kiss  him  and  let  him  go." 

During  the  school-keeping  he  read  Tacitus,  Cicero,  Herodotus 
and  Thucydides,  and  translated  Pindar,  Theocritus,  Bion  and 
Moschus,  as  well  as  ^Eschylus.  He  fell  in  with  Cousin,  and  the 
new  school  of  French  philosophers,  and  became  acquainted  with 
Coleridge.  He  also  pursued  the  literature  of  all  the  modern 
languages  which  he  then  knew,  and  made  great  strides  in  meta 
physics  and  theology. 

TO  MISS  CABOT. 

Feb.  27,  1834. 

Mr.  Francis  called  here  yesterday  and  lent  me  the  necessary  hooks, 
so  I  have  commenced  the  great  study,  the  criticism  of  the  New  Testa 
ment. 

I  spoke  again  to  Mr.  Francis  of  the  comparative  advantages  and  dis 
advantages  of  commencing  study  the  first  of  April  or  next  September,  and 
he  again  expressed  his  preference  for  the  former  plan.  He  preached 
all  day  Sabbath,  besides  lecturing  in  the  evening.  How  few  ministers 
are  so  industrious !  but  if  any  professional  man  can  have  an  induce 
ment  to  labour  with  all  diligence,  it  is  the  clergyman. 

I  have  been  to  examine  a  school  this  afternoon,  and  never  have  I  seen 
a  school  better  undergo  an  examination.  This  is  the  last  of  my  services 
upon  the  School  Committee,  and  glad  am  I. 

Feb. 

I  consulted  Mr.  Francis  about  going  to  Cambridge  soon,  and  joining 


THEODORE   PARKER.  65 

the  present  junior  class ;  he  thought  it  a  good  plan,  and  gave  me  letters 
of  introduction  to  Mr.  Ware.  I  have  walked  to  Cambridge  this  after 
noon,  and  seen  all  the  Faculty ;  have  resolved  to  make  the  attempt ;  so 
1  shall  finish  school-keeping  on  the  first  of  April,  and  remove  to  Cam 
bridge,  take  a  room  at  the  Hall,  and  commence  study. 

Nothing  is  too  much  for  young  ambition  to  hope,  no  eminence  too 
lofty  for  a  youth's  vision,  no  obstacle  too  difficult  for  his  exertions,  and 
no  excellence  unattainable.  Patience,  perseverance,  prayer  have  done 
something  already ;  and  when  we  consider  that  sincere  desires  are  never 
neglected,  and  real  endeavours  never  unassisted,  we  need  not  despair 
of  making  some  approaches  at  least  to  the  eminence  Mr.  Palfrey  now 
occupies.  Would  not  this  be  truly  delightful  ?  No  situation  can  be 
more  honourable,  no  task  more  pleasant,  no  prospect  more  celestial, 
than  that  of  a  virtuous,  faithful  clergyman. 

He  entered  the  Theological  School  during  the  last  three  months 
of  the  junior  class,  in  1834.  The  other  members  of  this  class 
were  Samuel  P.  Andrews,  Richard  T.  Austin,  John  S.  Dwight, 
George  E.  Ellis,  Oliver  C.  Everett,  Abiel  A.  Livermore,  and 
William  Silsbee.  The  report  of  his  scholarly  acquisitions  had 
preceded  him,  and  the  extent  of  his  reading  excited  admiration. 
His  talk  was  full  of  odd  learning  and  scraps  of  curious  infor 
mation.  He  was  crammed  from  books  and  observation,  but 
everything  lay  about  in  undigested  heaps.  All  the  library 
privileges  which  he  could  find  in  the  neighbourhood  be  laid 
hold  of,  and  the  students  were  frequently  drafted  to  help  him 
home  with  his  bundle  of  folios.  At  one  time  he  fancied  that  his 
memory  was  growing  feeble :  a  friend  found  him  posted  before 
an  enormous  historical  chart,  covering  one  side  of  his  room, 
which  contained  all  the  dates  and  incidents  from  Adam.  He 
was  committing  this  to  memory.  All  real  or  imaginary  de 
ficiencies  were  attacked  by  him  without  loss  of  time.  Every 
body  reproached  him  for  taking  no  exercise,  but  he  declared 
that  it  was  planting-time  with  him,  and  relied  upon  his  con 
stitution  to  carry  him  through.  He  increased  the  bad  effect  of 
this  fury  for  study  by  attempting  to  board  himself,  for  a  time, 
in  his  own  room,  a  sad  economy  which  brings  expense  upon 
later  years.  Classmates  have  said  that  be  used  to  study  fourteen 
hours  a  day. 

He  excelled  in  debate,  but  his  first  sermons  were  rather  poor. 
Henry  Ware,  jun.,  would  discuss  them  freely,  and  declare  to 
Theodore  that  they  were  unworthy  of  him.  This  salutary 
candour  cost  the  struggling  student  sleepless  nights,  broken  by 
sobs.  The  next  morning  would  find  him  in  despair,  believing 
6 


66  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

that  he  had  staked  all — time,  health,  and  hope,  upon  a  profession, 
and  had  lost.  His  talk  was  superior  to  his  sermonizing  ;  his 
prayers  were  already  full  of  simplicity  and  pious  feeling. 

He  was  very  affectionate,  and  relied  upon  two  or  three  of  his 
classmates ;  he  could  not  be  happy  without  the  privilege  of  fre 
quent  sallies  from  his  books  into  their  rooms,  for  a  moment's 
gossip  or  a  grotesque  caper.  Once  he  quarrelled  with  a  friend  who 
was  reading  "  Philip  Van  Artevelde "  with  him,  and  who  could 
not  bear  the  execution  of  Occo  and  Gilbert  Matthew  at  the  close 
of  the  first  part  of  that  drama.  "  It  is  a  great  blemish,"  says 
the  friend ;  "  Artevelde  should  have  shown  magnificent  with 
mercy."  "No/'  cries  Theodore,  "it  is  just :  it  is  good,  it  is 
Christian."  "  It  is  downright  murder/'  says  the  friend.  "  Then 
get  out  of  my  room/'  cried  Theodore,  in  wrath  because  the 
measure  meted  to  two  villains  was  not  recognised.  He  had 
to  pay  for  that :  whenever  he  referred  to  it,  the  tears  stood  in 
his  eyes. 

This  letter  shows  that  his  critical  tendency,  which  was  wide 
enough  awake  upon  most  topics,  still  refused  to  notice  the 
theology  that  he  brought  with  him.  His  statement  of  belief  is 
thoroughly  conventional. 

TO  HIS  NEPHEW  COLUMBUS  GREENE. 

Cambridge,  April  2,  1834. 

I  came  last  Saturday,  or  rather  Sunday  night,  and  of  course  have 
scarcely  had  time  to  see  how  I  shall  be  pleased;  but  since  I  am 
resolved  to  be  satisfied  at  all  events,  nothing  is  to  be  feared  on  that 
account.  It  is  now  vacation  with  the  class,  so  I  am  alone  in  this  great 
house.  Term-time  commences  two  weeks  from  t6-day,  when  I  shall 
join  the  class  at  recitations,  though  I  shall  not  be  considered  a  member 
till  next  commencement. 

You  enquire  about  my  belief.  I  believe  in  the  Bible.  Does  that 
satisfy  you  ?  No,  you  will  say :  all  Christians  profess  to  the  same, 
and  how  different  they  are. 

To  commence  then  :  I  believe  there  is  one  God,  who  has  existed  from 
all  eternity,  with  whom  the  past,  present,  and  future  are  alike  present; 
that  he  is  almighty,  good,  and  merciful,  will  reward  the  good  and 
punish  the  wicked,  both  in  this  life  and  the  next.  This  punishment 
may  be  eternal;  of  course,  I  believe  that  neither  the  rewards  nor 
punishments  of  a  future  state  are  corporal.  Bodily  pleasures  soon 
satiate,  and  may  God  preserve  us  from  a  worse  punishment  than  one's 
own  conscience. 

I  believe  the  books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament  to  have  been 
written  by  men  inspired  by  God,  for  certain  purposes,  but  I  do  not 
think  them  inspired  at  all  times.  I  believe  that  Christ  was  the  Son 


pay 
I 


THEODORE  PARKER.  67 

4 

of  Grod,  conceived  and  born  in  a  miraculous  manner,  that  lie  came  to 
preach  a  better  religion  by  which  man  may  be  saved. 

This  religion,  as  I  think,  allows  men  the  very  highest  happiness  in 
this  life,  and  promises  eternal  felicity  in  another  world.  I  do  not 
think  our  sins  will  be  forgiven  because  Christ  died.  I  cannot  conceive 
why  they  should  be,  although  many  good  and  great  men  have  thought 
so.  I  believe  Grod  knows  all  that  we  shall  do,  but  does  not  cause  us  to 
do  anything. 

The  expenses  at  the  school  are  66  dollars  annually  ;  board  in  com 
mons,  1  dollar,  90  cents  a  week  ;  clothes,  &c.,  will  make  in.  all  about 
200  dollars  per  annum.  I  shall  have,  when  all  affairs  are  settled  at 
Watertown,  about  150  dollars.  This  is  too  little,  you  will  say.  Well, 
I  know  it,  but  I  have  paid  nearly  200  dollars  for  books  within  these 
two  years  ;  and  clothes,  you  know,  cost  lots  of  money.  I  am  now 
boarding  myself  upon  dry  bread;  it  will  cost  about  half  a  dollar  a 
week.  I  shall  try  it  all  vacation,  and  if  I  like  it,  all  summer. 

One  scholar  comes  and  recites  once  a  day  till  commencement  ;  the 
is  12  dollars  a  quarter. 

had  almost  forgot  to  mention,  at  the  close  of  my  school  the 
scholars  gave  me  a  handsome  silver  cup,  with  an  inscription  testifying 
their  respect,  gratitude,  &c.  It  was  preceded  by  an  address  from  one 
of  the  scholars  I  never  parted  with  scholars  so  sorrowfully  in  my 
life.  I  wept  and  so  did  they. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

April  28,  1834. 

Let  me  advise  you  not  to  fear  the  opinion  of  the  world.  Satisfy 
your  reason,  and  especially  satisfy  your  own  conscience,  and  all  will 
then  be  well. 

I  hope  I  shall  not  want  much  money  at  all,  and  for  this  reason  : 
I  to-day  made  application  to  Prof.  Palfrey,  the  Dean  of  the  Faculty,  for  a 
benefice,  and  my  application  was  successful.  Of  course  nothing  will 
be  extended  this  season,  but  after  next  commencement  about  110 
dollars  or  150  dollars  will  be  afforded  me  annually.  This  will  go  a 
good  way  towards  defraying  my  expenses  ;  and  since  I  have  a  little  of 
my  own,  probably  I  shall  not  want  to  borrow  any  of  you  this  year. 
This  is  an  unexpected  instance  of  good  fortune  for  which  I  cannot  be 
sufficiently  grateful. 

I  tried  cold  bread  for  a  fortnight,  and  at  the  commencement  of  the 
term  went  back  again  to  commons  ;  but  I  intend  to  try  the  old  scheme 
again  next  autumn. 

TO   THE  SAME. 
•  July  11,  1834. 

Should  you  be  pleased  to  know  something  of  our  ordinary  course  of 
proceedings  in  this  institution  ?  "We  have  about  thirty  scholars,  divided 
into  three  classes  ;  one  of  these  graduates  in  about  a  week.  Some  one 
of  the  senior  class  preaches  each  Sabbath  evening  during  the  year  ;  all 
the  school  and  some  few  strangers  attend.  Prayers  are  performed  at 
morning  of  every  day  by  Prof.  Palfrey,  and  at  evening  by  one  of  the 


68  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

senior  class.  The  junior  class,  to  which  I  belong,  recites  in  Hebrew 
every  Monday,  Wednesday,  and  Friday  afternoon ;  attends  a  lecture 
upon  the  criticism  of  the  New  Testament,  Monday  and  Friday,  when 
we  translate  the  original,  ask  questions,  and  engage  in  discussion  with 
the  Professor.  We  recite  and  discuss  the  Evidences  of  Christianity 
with  Dr.  Ware  every  Wednesday.  Tuesday  afternoon  we  have  an 
exercise  in  extemporaneous  speaking  with  Prof.  Ware,  jun.,  one  of 
the  finest  men  I  have  ever  known.  Some  subject  is  proposed  to  the 
class  at  one  meeting  and  discussed  at  the  next.  Saturday  morning 
Mr.  Ware  delivers  a  lecture  upon  composition  of  sermons,  subjects  to 
be  treated,  &c.,  to  the  whole  school.  Thursday  we  have  no  recitation. 
One-third  of  the  school  declaims  every  Tuesday  evening.  Friday 
evening  the  whole  school  meet  for  extemporaneous  speaking.  Thursday 
evening  is  spent  in  a  religious  meeting. 

A  society  for  the  promotion  of  the  interests  of  humanity,  and  called 
the  "  Philanthropic  Society,"  meets  once  a  fortnight  on  Wednesday 
evening.  A  report  is  always  read  upon  some  interesting  subject,  such 
as  "Infidelity,"  "Temperance,"  "The  License  Laws,"  by  a  committee 
previously  appointed  to  investigate  the  subject.  Besides  this,  I  have  a 
fine  lad  who  comes  every  morning  to  recite  Greek  and  Latin,  &c.,  and 
had  a  young  gentleman  who  came  twice  a  week  to  recite  German,  but 
I  have  not  seen  him  this  fortnight. 

All  my  leisure  is  devoted  to  translating  some  papers  of  La  Fayette, 
which  I  am  doing  for  Mr.  Sparks,  who  is  going  to  publish  them.  This 
is  his  work,  and  not  mine.  I  shall  be  constantly  occupied  upon  this 
translation  during  the  whole  of  vacation. 

Sunday  I  visit  the  States'  Prison,  where  I  have  an  interesting  class 
in  the  Sunday  school. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

July  8,  1835. 

I  have  two  scholars  now  (young  men),  who  intend  to  enter  an 
advanced  class  in  college.  They  come  one  hour  a  day.  Besides, 
you  know,  I  have  two  young  misses,  so  my  time  is  tolerably  well 
occupied. 

He  was  still  the  bashful  and  sensitive  boy,  filled  with  piety 
and  pure  feelings,  yet  very  self-reliant  and  ambitious.  He  carried 
into  the  school  all  the  energy  and  purpose  which  his  peculiar 
education  had  served  to  develope.  He  attacked  every  subject 
with  enthusiasm,  and  extemporized  his  own  way  of  mastering  it. 
He  is  represented  as  being  very  eager  in  the  debates  which  were 
held  once  a  week  in  the  little  chapel  of  Divinity  Hall ;  there  he 
judged  everything  in  an  independent  fashion,  was  very  reverent 
of  truth,  yet  never  calculated  his  phrases,  offended  the  taste 
sometimes,  but  always  stimulated  inquiry  and  the  deepest  feel 
ings.  Dr.  Ware  would  interrupt  the  ardent  debater,  suggesting, 
perhaps,  that  it  was  not  quite  handsome  to  say  "  old  Paul/'  as 


THEODORE   PARKER.  69 

the  epithet  no  longer  conveyed  apostolic  meanings.  Theodore 
would  subside,  proceeding  in  humorous  excess  with  allusions  to 
the  "  gentleman  from  Tarsus."  Rebuffs  for  want  of  taste,  or 
for  any  disregard  of  conventionalisms,  did  not  put  him  down, 
for  it  was  in  part  his  very  eagerness  which  kept  him  so  sensi 
tive.  On  he  went,  finding  his  own  way  through  everything, 
earnest  to  have  a  sight  of  genuine  objects  in  all  the  fields  of 
thought.  It  is  singular  that  his  colourless  theology  escaped  so 
long.  He  still  took  a  good  many  things  on  trust,  for  spiritual 
intuitions  were  very  dear  to  him ;  but  if  a  new  doctrine  rested 
upon  evidence,  he  showed  what  the  old  doctrine  might  one  day 
expect  when  he  cross-questioned  it  to  the  extent  of  his  critical 
ability.  If  it  was  developed  metaphysically,  each  step  of  the 
process  was  tested  by  an  instinctive  health  of  all  the  faculties, 
which  may  be  called  his  common-sense.  It  was  his  common- 
sense,  and  that  of  no  other  person  :  the  most  valuable  result  of 
his  peculiar  "  bringing  up."  For  common-sense  depends  upon  the 
the  personality,  though  in  all  persons  it  is  a  general  soundness, 
or  freedom  from  cachexy  ;  not  mere  shrewdness,  or  ability  to 
conduct  material  affairs,  or  perception  of  the  best  out  of  half-a- 
dozen  ways,  but  the  functional  man  in  good  condition,  every 
part  of  the  nature  exhibiting  an  irreproachable  digestion,  and  no 
part  overnourished.  A  man  shows  his  common-sense  when  he 
is  seen  not  to  be  under  the  tyranny  of  any  special  knack  or 
impulse ;  his  shrewdness  is  not  a  talent,  but  an  operative  condi 
tion  of  his  whole  mind.  He  is  too  shrewd  to  exaggerate  a 
single  member  ;  he  promotes  the  fair  development  of  all.  Faith, 
conscience,  and  understanding  receive  their  just  amount  of  chyle  ; 
the  pulse  goes  everywhere,  touches  at  all  the  ports  of  entry  and 
delivery,  leaving  and  taking  what  is  due.  This  is  a  sensible 
man,  as  distinguished  from  a  commercial,  metaphysical,  mystical, 
sceptical,  or  sentimental  man. 

The  common-sense  which  Mr.  Parker  began  now  to  display 
had  been  carefully  protected  by  his  mode  of  life.  The  artifices 
of  education  injure  ordinary  people  just  where  they  need  the 
greatest  strengthening.  Extraordinary  people  instinctively  in 
vent  their  own  methods.  The  same  drill,  the  same  succession  of 
text-books,  the  same  set  of  theological  opinions,  the  same  clique, 
and  neighbourhood,  the  same  professional  traditions,  turn  out  vast 
numbers  of  conventional  judgments,  which  for  want  of  common- 
sense  are  considered  sensible.  It  is  said  that  the  Flathead  prac- 


70  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

ties  does  not  impair  the  natural  capacity  of  the  tribe  ;  nothing 
is  said  of  the  want  of  capacity  which  invented  and  pursues  the 
practice.  Fortunately,  nobody  caught  Mr.  Parker  when  his 
skull  was  soft,  to  lay  heavy  hands  on  the  brain's  gentle  respiring 
beat.  By-and-bye  he  possessed  health  and  amplitude  of  organs  fit 
for  any  work.  And  his  instinct  that  he  must  relinquish  to  each 
function  its  appropriate  freedom  and  opportunities  had  not  been 
taught  out  of  him.  He,  therefore,  gradually  and  surely  learned 
for  himself  how  to  bring  all  the  functions  to  an  understanding ; 
not  thereby  solving  all  spiritual  problems,  but  preserving  the 
inward  health.  The  healthier  he  grew,  the  more  he  despised  all 
doctrines  which  start  from  a  presumption  of  human  inability. 
The  soul  seemed  to  him  well  made  for  its  work.  It  was  this 
which  made  him  ask  for  principles  that  are  capable  of  promoting 
human  welfare  ;  all  opinions  and  beliefs  which  cannot  effect  this 
practical  connection  with  humanity  dropped  gradually  out  of  his 
favour.  He  wanted  only  available  truths,  yet  his  common-sense 
had  a  high  and  fastidious  notion  of  availability.  It  was  not  a 
niggardly  sharpness  to  discover  the  least  amount  that  will  keep 
alive  a  human  being,  to  put  men  and  women  on  famine  rations 
of  faith,  thought,  and  feeling,  but  it  was  an  instinct  for  the  real 
interdependence  of  all  these.  There  naturally  belonged  to  this  a 
shrewd  and  sarcastic  vein,  and  no  little  impatience  with  all  the 
mystical  and  ecstatical  luxuries  which  have  ever  corrupted  honest, 
manly  blood.  Sometimes  he  was  disdainful,  and  sometimes  merry, 
when  he  got  into  a  field  of  these,  and  began  to  shake  them  out 
with  his  critical  pitchfork. 

After  a  thorough  reading  of  the  fathers,  with  careful  notes 
and  analyses,  he  breaks  out  one  day  thus  : — 

I  am  heart-weary  and  reason-weary  of  these  same  doting  fathers. 
They  have  sense,  hut  it  is  "a  grain  of  wheat  in  a  bushel  of  chaff."  I 
shall  soon  be  done  with  them,  however,  for  the  present  at  least.  One 
of  the  greatest  proofs  of  the  darkness  of  the  monastic  ages  is  the 
folly-admiration  bestowed  upon  these  same  nonsense  writers. 

I  will  say  one  word  about  "  the  resolute  Hierome  "  as  an  ancient  has 
it.  He  loved  glory  rather  than  truth,  was  superstitious,  and  an  intro 
ducer  of  important  errors  into  the  Church,  both  in  doctrine  and  inter 
pretation.  Setting  aside  his  extensive,  perhaps  immense,  reading  and 
faculty  of  sharp  declamation,  and,  Leclerc  says,  nothing  but  moderate 
faculties  remain.  He  was  not  a  profound  scholar  in  Hebrew,  or  even 
in  Greek.  He  tasted  of  theology  rather  than  exhausted  it.  He  wrote 
hia  works  in  great  haste. 

St.  Austin,  we  all  know,  introduced  more  error  into  the  Church  than 


THEODORE   PARKER.  l 

any  other  man.  Many  of  his  doctrines  fly  in  the  face  both  of  reason 
and  virtue,  to  extinguish  the  eyes  of  one  and  to  stifle  the  breath  of  the 
other.  Everybody  knows  how  he  persecuted  his  opposers,  Pelagius  and 
Julian,  to  say  nothing  of  others.  Let  him  go.  If  anyone  wishes  to  read 
an  eulogy  of  undeserved  elegance  upon  the  Bishop  of  Hippo,  he  will 
find  it  in  Maury,  &c. 

Tertullian  I  have  always  looked  upon  with  considerable  jealousy.  He 
first  introduced  the  notion  that  faith  and  reason  contradict  each  other 
naturally— a  doctrine  so  germane  to  the  feelings  of  many  in  those  un 
reason  days.  He  thought  faith  which  contradicted  reason  was  most 
acceptable  to  God.  He  has  regular  canons  of  criticism ;  some  of  them 
are  indeed  good,  but  his  application  of  them  is  faulty.  Everybody 
knows  he  thought  the  soul  material,  &c. ;  he  thought  it  was  sky-blue.  A 
sister  of  those  days  had  been  elevated  by  contemplation  so  high,  that 
she  saw  the  souls  all  sky-blue. 

These  patristic  studies  were  brought  to  a  close  in  the  winter 
of  1835.  But  they  often  reappear,  and  in  1845  Tertullian  is 
noticed  again : 

Tertullian,  it  seemed  always  to  me,  was  one  of  the  worst  curses  to 
the  human  race  that  has  occurred  since  the  Elood.  I  don't  know  but 
Africa  took  its  revenge  on  the  European  world  in  advance  by  sending 
Tertullian  and  Augustine  into  it.  I  think,  at  this  day,  it  is  easier  to 
free  the  negroes  from  their  white  masters  than  it  is  to  deliver  the  human 
race  from  this  wretched  yoke  laid  on  us  by  those  two  shabby  Africans. 
I  remember,  years  ago,  thinking  most  of  the  absurdities  of  Christian 
theology  came  in  with  Tertullian  ;  and  reading  a  little  since  convinces 
me  that  he  developed  much  iniquity  that  was  only  latent  before,  and 
brought  in  many  wolves  to  the  Christian  flock,  which  have  since  been 
clothed  in  sheep-skins  and  have  devoured  the  flock  without  mercy. 

The  Scriptures  have  been  almost  always  interpreted  in  the  interest  of 
dogmatism,  from  Christ  to  this  present ;  for  instance,  the  Regula  Fidei 
of  Tertullian  and  the  Analogy  of  Faith  in  our  day.  Chrysostom  was 
better  than  most,  but  he  was  often  absurd  in  his  interpretations.  Some 
of  the  old  allegorizers  equal  Swedenborg — some  of  the  Chiliasts. 
Irenaeus,  inter  olios,  was  absurd  as  Charles  Fourier. 

JUSTIN  MABTTB. — I  admire  the  candour  and  beauty  and  sweetness 
of  his  Oratio  ad  Grcecos,  in  which  he  shows  the  folly  of  their  old  mythi, 
if  accepted  as  true.  What  is  the  value  of  his  testimony  to  prove*  the 
fact  of  such  acceptance  ?  A  Greek  philosopher  becomes  Christian,  and 
reasons  as  if  his  nation  believed  the  stories — how  much  does  it  prove  ?) 
He  urges  them  to  accept  the  doctrines  of  one  true  God. 

In  his  Admonitio  ad  Grcecos,  the  same  is  done  still  better.  Here  he 
shows  that  Moses  was  older  than  the  Greek  teachers,  and  proves  it  from 
writers  not  Christian,  after  showing  the  folly  of  the  Greek  myths  in 
Homer  and  the  philosophers.  Here  he  misunderstood  both,  I  think, 
sometimes. 

He  says  Orpheus  and  Homer  taught  some  beautiful  truths,  and  cites 
that  fine  piece  of  Orpheus  to  Musaeus  (which  most  unfortunately  is 
spurious  and  of  late  date) ;  the  monotheistic  passages  from  the  Sybil 


72  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

(for  he  could  say,  "  Teste  David  cum  Sibylla")  ;'  and  Sophocles.  He 
speaks  of  the  names  of  God,  and  says  the  name  is  holy  for  us— not  for 
God  ;  go  each  and  all  names  are  indifferent  to  God.  The  whole  piece 
is  quite  noble. 

The  list  of  languages  which  he  studied  in  the  school  included 
Italian,  Portuguese,  Dutch,  Icelandic,  Chaldaic,  Arabic,  Persian, 
Coptic,  and  a  smattering  of  ^Ethiopia  He  attempted  Russian, 
but  there  was  no  one  to  help  him  master  the  sounds  of  the  alpha 
bet,  and  he  gave  it  up  till  he  lived  in  Boston. 

In  November,  1835,  he  began  to  study  Swedish.  At  the 
same  time,  translations  of  Eichhorn  and  Ammon  were  going  on 
— reading  Greek  comedies  and  German  commentaries,  Vico's 
"  Scienza  Nuova,"  and  parts  of  Plato.  Before  the  month  was 
out  he  was  translating  Swedish  poetry,  and  in  the  last  week  of 
it  he  commenced  Danish.  In  December  he  undertook  the 
modern  Greek.  All  languages,  dead  or  living,  were  mastered 
with  great  rapidity.  Everything  he  planted  grew  fast,  but  he 
always  seemed  to  have  a  language  under  glass.* 

He  learned  not  merely  the  vocabulary  of  a  new  tongue,  as  so 
many  American  students  do,  to  get  at  the  general  sense  of  a  book 
in  the  most  economical  manner,  and  push  over  the  ground  with 
smart  conjectures.  But  he  loved  philology ;  the  grammatical 
structure  and  derivation  of  a  language  attracted  him  first.  The 
vocabulary  came  next  ;  in  fact,  his  occasional  mistakes  in  trans 
lating  at  a  time  when  he  was  devoured  by  work  were  in  the 
meanings  of  words  oftener  than  in  the  idiom  and  structure.  His 
knowledge  of  Hebrew  and  Syriac  was  so  minute,  that  Professor 
Sidney  Willard  is  said  to  have  often  applied  to  the  young 
Divinity  student  for  advices  upon  some  nice  point.  And  in  1843 
he  dropped  into  the  middle  of  the  course  of  the  Arabic  Professor 
in  Paris,  bringing,  with  entire  comprehension  of  the  subject,  a 
capacity  to  criticise  the  lecturer's  method. 

To-day  I  made  a  new  acquisition  to  my  library,  viz.,  ^erder's  Com 
plete  Works,  in  45  volumes.  I  can  never  render  sufficient  thanks  for 
God's  goodness  in  giving  me  this  opportunity  of  increasing  my  books, 
and  of  course  my  means  of  usefulness. 

*  "A  kinsman  of  mine,  one  Thomas  Parker,  who  lived  a  virgin,  and  'went  unto  the 
apocalyptical  virgins  at  death,'  was  such  a  master  of  the  Oriental  tongues  that  once,  when 
some  of  his  brother  clergymen  assembled  to  rebuke  him  for  some  heresy,  he  replied  in 
Latin — they  rejoined  in  Latin.  He  replied  in  Greek — they  continued  in  that  tongue. 
He  answered  in  Hebrew— they  questioned  in  Hebrew.  He  then  retreated  to  the  Arabic, 
where  they  could  not  follow  him,  when  he  bade  them  go  home  and  study  their  prit 
before  they  undertook  to  school  him." 


THEODORE   PARKER.  73 

He  had  in  college  a  class  of  Hebrew  students,  which  he  met 
twice  a  week,  and  two  private  students  ;  and  in  1836  he  taught 
Hebrew  to  the  junior  class  in  the  Divinity  school,  during  the 
visit  to  New  Orleans  made  by  Dr.  Palfrey. 

Anglo-Saxon  is  added  to  the  other  languages  before  the  New 
Year.  Everything  else  is  going  on  at  the  same  time,  and  nume 
rous  odes  and  versicles  are  showered  along  the  track.  "  A  Bridal 
Hymn/'  for  instance,  "  for  the  Wedding  of  Beauty  and  Truth/' 
with  choruses  of  earth-spirits  and  angels,  which  I  forbear  to  dis 
turb.  He  delivers  a  lecture  in  Concord  during  the  vacation  ; 
translates,  dips  into  rabbinical  matters,  into  books  on  Messianic 
prophecy,  on  which  point  he  began  to  hold  with  De  Wette,  and 
asks  himself  some  questions  about  the  Miraculous  Conception. 
He  studies  books  about  the  Canon  and  the  different  versions  of 
the  Bible — Schrift-Erklarungs-Geschichte — translates  the  article 
"  Rationalism  "  from  the  Conversations-Lexicon,  and  a  good  deal 
out  of  Eichhorn's  "  Ur-Geschichte."  Paulus  succeeds,  and  he 
writes  a  paper  entitled  "  Hints  upon  German  Theology/'  then 
goes  through  the  "  Wolfenbiittel  Fragments "  question,  and 
begins  to  read  Spinoza. 

Under  the  head  of  "Horse  Platonicse,"  he  makes  analyses 
and  criticisms  of  the  views  in  Plato's  works.  During  the 
reading  of  the  "  Republic/'  his  humanity  gives  significant  and 
promising  utterance. 

Is  a  man  bad,  the  good  shall  teach  him  goodness.  And  the  teaching 
shall  be  good,  not  that  which  renders  the  vile  doubly  perverse,  for  that 
is  unjust.  When  will  this  sentiment  lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  codes 
of  laws?  Penal  legislature,  now-a-days,  has  all  the  effect  of  the 
purest  injustice,  in  driving  the  half-guilty  to  increased  crime,  and  in 
making  doubly  deep  the  hatred  of  the  revengeful.  I  doubt  not  the 
angel  of  humanity  will  beat,  with  her  golden  pinions,  all  prisons  to 
small  dust. 

On  Sundays  he  generally  went  to  Charlestown,  where  he  had 
a  class  in  the  State  prison,  which  greatly  interested  him.  But 
occasionally  we  find  him  in  Watertown. 

Sunday,  22  Feh.,  1836. — I  heard  Mr.  Francis  preach  two  very  good 
sermons,  as  may  he  supposed,  since  with  him  good  sermons  are  the 
rule,  and  poor  ones  the  exceptions,  and  rare  ones  too.  I  dined  with 
him,  and  found  as  much  pleasure  and  satisfaction  as  usual  in  his  varied 
and  instructive  conversation. 

Then  follow  notes  of  the  table-talk  about  Coleridge,  &c.  It 
is  needless  to  catalogue  the  books  which  marked  his  course  of 


7  4  LIFE   AND   CORBESPONDENCE   OF 

study  during  the  next  term.  Wegschieder,  Staudlin,  Storr, 
Schmidt,  and  better  yet,  Cudworth,  Henry  More,  Norris,  Des 
cartes,  Lessing,  Cousin,  B.  Constant,  Leibnitz  ;  also  books  on 
Magic,  about  which  he  was  always  very  curious.  Descartes  fur 
nished  him  with  rules  for  studying. 

April  21. — It  is  now  the  commencement  of  a  new  term — of  my  last 
term  of  study  in  college.  Where  shall  the  end  of  it  send  me — what 
will  become  of  me  then  ?  "What  will  eventually  become  my  destiny  ? 
"What  preacher  shall  I  be  ?  And  where  shall  I  find  a  resting-place  ? 
All  these  questions  come  up  with  mighty  force — they  weigh  heavily  at 
times  upon  my  soul. 

A  part  of  the  decision  of  these  great  questions  rests  with  me,  a  part 
upon  something  exterior  to  myself — upon  Providence.  For  my  own 
part  alone  feel  I  any  anxiety.  God  has  ever  protected  me,  and  even  in 
the  times  when  there  seemed  no  possible  way  of  escape  from  present 
and  impending  disaster,  His  hand  has  shown  a  way.  Shall  I  distrust  it 
now  ?  Oh,  no,  I  do  not — I  cannot.  The  Almighty  will  doubtless  give 
me  more  than  I  deserve— why  should  I  fear  ? 

-  "Wherever  I  am  cast  I  can  be  happy.  I  will  attempt  to  do  my  duty. 
But  there  are  others  dear  to  my  heart.  Shall  I  disappoint  their  che 
rished  hopes  ?  Oh,  no ! 

Much  depends  upon  this  little  term.  May  I  improve  its  blessings 
right. 

TO  MISS  CABOT. 

Tuesday  Eve. 

Brother  D  wight  just  called  at  my  door,  requesting  me  "to  bang  him 
up  in  the  morning,"  as  he  elegantly  calls  it,  which  you  know  means  it 
is  something  like  bed-time.  But  bed-time  is  not  "  the  witching  time  of 
night,"  for  you  nullified  all  late  watching  long  ago,  by  an  imperial 
decree. 

TO   THE  SAME. 

June  10,  1835. 

"Were  I  to  become  an  idolater  I  should  worship  the  stars,  since  they 
are  almost  a  personification  of  ideal  beauty,  so  bright,  so  clear,  appa 
rently  so  frail,  and  yet  outlasting  human  calculation — so  uncertain  and 
yet  so  constant.  That  folly  could  almost  be  forgiven  which  led  men  to 
imagine  them  animated  with  celestial  souls,  and  endowed  with  super 
human,  and  only  less  than  supreme  power,  and  which  made  them  no 
feeble  actors  in  the  fortunes  of  men  and  fall  of  mighty  states.  But 
since  we  are  no  idolators,  but  Christians,  we  can  look  beyond  the  stars 
up  to  the  throne  of  the  Invisible,  which  they  surround  and  adorn  with 
their  shining. 

"What  is  more  beautiful  than  a  summer's  night,  when  the  hurry  and 
bustle  of  day  has  gone  by,  and  calm  and  stillness  succeeds  ?  .  .  . 

How  happy  is  a  mother's  charge  at  night,  when,  w}th  many  a  prayer, 
she  folds  up  her  little  flowerets,  and  commits  them  to  His  care  whose 
eye  never  slumbers  nor  sleeps !  Perhaps  you  have  not  such  assoeia- 


THEODORE   PARKER.  75 

tions  as  I  have  with  this  period ;  but  now  the  days  when  I  was  a  little, 
yes,  a  very  little  child,  come  up  before  me,  when  my  mother  taught  me 
a  prayer  and  a  hymn,  and,  giving  one  farewell  kiss,  left  me  to  repose. 
I  cannot  think  of  those  times  without  a  tear — a  tear  of  regret  for  those 
days,  and  of  sorrow  that  I  am  so  little  worthy  of  a  fond  parent's  hopes 
and  prayers  and  tears. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

June  17,  1835. 

I  suppose  it  is  only  by  means  of  the  imagination  that  we  form  any 
notion,  at  least  any  conception,  of  God,  of  the  sublime,  of  the  beauti 
ful,  the  perfect.  I  do  not  mean  mere  fancy,  which  only  presents  us 
cold  and  lifeless  pictures  of  things  once  seen,  and  combines  them  in 
unreal  positions,  but  that  power  which  acts  within,  im-ago,  in-forms ; 
which  embodies  our  abstract  notions,  and  gives  them  shapes,  hues,  and 
beauty,  till  they  burn.  .  .  . 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  had  always  a  world  of  my  own,  an  ideal 
creation,  where  I  could  roam  and  luxuriate  at  random.  Many  a  time 
have  I  strayed  from  the  right  path  and  gone  far  beyond  my  stopping- 
place,  while  I  was  brooding  over  some  scheme  not  yet  accomplished. 
How  many  times  has  my  plough  run  upon  a  rock  while  I  was  ex 
pounding  law,  making  speeches  in  the  senate,  or  astonishing  men  with 
a  display  of  intellectual  power,  fitly  put  forth,  in  my  imaginary 
Utopia.  .  .  . 

It  is  delightful  now  to  imagine  myself  a  minister,  to  recount  the 
duties  of  the  station,  and  consider  all  the  ways  of  performing  them, 
and  forefeel  the  glorious  satisfaction  of  seeing  God's  work  prosper  in 
my  hand.  I  turn  to  a  home — to  a  home  of  beauty,  of  affection,  of 
love !  To  a  home  where  all  noble  feelings  are  cherished,  and  whence  all 
jarring  interests  and  strife  are  excluded.  Calamities  may  fall  upon 
that  home ;  they  come  upon  all  men — each  country  has  its  own  storms. 
But  if  it  is  built  on  the  rock  of  holy  affection,  it  will  stand:  the  floods 
may  pass  over  it — they  can  never  shake  its  fixt  foundation. 

A  great  deal  of  his  time  in  the  school  was  spent  upon  contri 
butions  for  the  Scriptural  Interpreter.  This  little  magazine  was 
commenced  by  Ezra  Stiles  Gannett  in  1831.  It  had  reached  the 
middle  of  the  fifth  volume,  in  1835,  when  ill-health  compelled 
Mr.  Gannett  entirely  to  relinquish  the  supervision  of  it,  and  it 
fell  into  the  hands  of  three  divinity  students,  William  Silsbee, 
George  E.  Ellis,  and  Mr.  Parker.  It  was  edited  by  them  to  the 
close  of  its  publication  in  1836,  and  the  greater  part  of  each 
number  was  also  prepared  by  them.  It  was  a  little  in  advance 
of  the  average  Unitarianism  of  the  time  on  the  questions  of 
Messianic  Prophecy,  and  of  the  Pentateuch,  and  gave  the  views 
of  De  Wette,  EichhorD,  Astruc,  and  others.  The  subjects  of 
miracles  and  inspiration  were  hardly  yet  deployed  upon  the 
field.  It  was  only  occasionally  denied  that  the  facts  of  miracles 


76  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

lent  any  authority  to  the  truths  of  Christianity.  The  contro 
versy  upon  the  Trinity  and  the  Atonement  had  subsided,  and 
discussions  upon  the  element  of  Divinity  in  Christ  had  not  com 
menced.  The  Unitarians  had  now  their  position,  and  were 
recognized  in  a  sulky  fashion.  The  acrimony  of  the  contest  with 
Calvinism  broke  out  less  frequently  in  the  religious  newspapers 
of  the  day.  In  carrying  their  point,  the  Unitarians  had  gra 
dually  absorbed  a  great  deal  of  the  wealth,  talent  and  influence 
in  New  England.  Leading  men  professed  the  liberal  faith.  The 
old  protesting  impulse  grew  languid  with  this  achievement  of 
respectability.  A  good  many  generous  and  indignant  things 
which  the  flame  of  battle  had  nourished  in  their  minds  began  to 
fade  out  of  the  recollection.  Instinctively  they  commenced  to 
fortify  their  position  as  the  offensive  warfare  slackened,  and  both 
parties  stood  narrowly  watching  each  other.  Decorum,  regard 
for  opinion,  the  habits  of  an  established  sect  began  to  set  in.  A 
desire  to  be  recognized  as  a  truly  Conservative  and  religious 
body,  with  positive  faith  enough  left  to  serve  the  soul  in  living 
and  dying,  to  serve  education  and  the  state,  to  refute  practi 
cally  the  grave  objection  that  they  were  upsetting  the  Bible 
and  society  with  their  negative  criticism,  prevailed  so  strongly 
that  vigorous  investigation  nearly  ceased.  Tentative  speculation 
was  undertaken  by  the  young  men  with  little  positive  encourage 
ment.  They  had  only  the  advantage  of  a  negative  good-nature, 
which  disappeared  with  the  first  serious  alarm.  "Whither  is 
this  tending  ? "  and,  "  What  will  the  orthodox  say  ? "  are 
questions  which  in  plain  language  indicated  the  general  mood. 
It  was  not  so  expressed,  and  perhaps  would  not  be  so  acknow 
ledged,  but  it  received  during  the  next  fifteen  years  a  good 
many  instinctive  confirmations.  Thrift,  housekeeping  and  civic 
propriety  succeeded  to  adventurous  exploring.  After  getting 
through  swamps  of  Trinity  and  Vicarious  Sacrifice  in  dashing 
style,  just  as  the  clear  outlook  dawned  at  the  end  of  the  paths 
cut  through  the  matted  undergrowth,  and  the  blue  lines  beyond 
piqued  the  mind  to  gain  their  height  and  freedom,  the  Unitarians 
paused,  dropped  axe,  rifle,  and  the  ranging  glass,  and  settled 
the  flat  produce-growing  prairie.  They  have  tried  to  deter 
their  young  men  from  pressing  forward  to  penetrate  the  distant 
bold  ranges,  entreating  them  not  to  compromise  the  settlement 
and  draw  the  attack  of  savages,  and  reminding  them  of  the 
perils  of  the  vast  drear  interval.  There  was  a  kind  of  sense  in 


THEODOKE   PARKER.  77 

insisting  upon  content  with  the  gently  rolling  fertility  which 
they  had  discovered,  and  upon  which  they  had  stopped  to  plant,  but 
this  was  not  the  highest  kind  of  sense  ;  for  the  original  squatters 
are  sadly  crowded  now,  and  many  of  their  young  men  are  scattered, 
dio'ginor  wells  along  a  solitary  trail,  around  which  one  day  men 
and  women  shall  gratefully  cluster,  and  opening  the  green  valleys 
where  the  mountain  cedars  stand. 

The  following  anonymous  contribution  to  the  literature  of 
Protestantism,  shows  how  early  the  Unitarians  betrayed  this 
tendency  for  comfort : — 

TO    MESSRS.    ELLIS,    PARKER,    AND    SILSBEE,    EDITORS 
"  INTERPRETER/' 

April  20,  1836. 

I  read,  in  the  last  number  of  the  Scriptural  Interpreter,  the 
article  on  the  52nd  chapter  of  Isaiah,  and  with  unmingled  surprise  and 
horror.  What  could  possess  you  ?  What  is  the  object  of  the  theolo 
gians  at  Cambridge  ?  Are  they  determined  to  break  down  the  pro 
phecies,  and  make  our  blessed  Saviour  and  his  Apostles  impostors  and 
liars  ?  Cannot  our  doctrines  be  sustained  in  any  other  way  ?  Must 
the  pious  Christian  be  compelled  to  give  up  one  passage  after  another, 
one  book  after  another,  one  prophecy  after  another,  until  he  has  nothing 
left  to  stand  upon  but  what  is  in  common  with  the  Deist  ?  Where  is 
it  all  to  end  ?  Tell  us,  I  beseech  you,  that  we  may  quit,  if  necessary, 
the  ship  before  it  is  too  late ;  before  we  have  struck  upon  the  last  rock 
which  the  vessel  of  our  faith  will  bear  ? 

This  first-class  passenger,  so  suddenly  aroused,  trotting  up  and 
down  the  quarter-deck  in  a  minimum  of  clothes,  with  wringing 
hands  and  frantic  glances,  conjures  the  captain  to  alter  his  course, 
and  then  disappears  down  the  companion-way  for  ever,  thus : — 

Pause  then,  I  beseech  you,  before  it  is  too  late.  I  am  a  well-wisher 
to  your  work.  I  have  always  been  a  subscriber.  I  am  one  of  the 
household  of  your  faith.  But  another  such  a  blow  and  I  must  quit  all 
I  value ;  my  religious  faith  above  all  things  else.  I  cannot  part  with 
it.  To  escape,  therefore,  shipwreck,  I  must  jump  overboard  before  the 
last  plank  is  taken  away.  And  not  I  alone.  Hundreds  must  do  the 
same ;  they  will  not  bear  to  have  the  sacred  records  of  their  faith  frit 
tered  all  away,  though  it  may  be  in  a  style  a  little  more  refined  than 
that  of  Paine,  but,  nevertheless,  resulting  in  consequences  which  are 
just  the  same.  Mr.  Noyes  strikes  a  blow  and  alarms  a  sect.  Mr. 
Peabody  recovers  the  ground  for  a  moment,  by  holding  on  to  a  few 
passages.  The  Interpreter  follows  to  destroy  one  of  the  most  essen 
tial  of  these  few.  The  end  cannot  be  far  off.'  And  then,  the  imposture 
of  the  New  Testament  and  its  authors  will  be  the  completion  of  the 
dreadful  work. 

A  SUBSCRIBES. 


78  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

Mr.  Parker  went  forward,  but  with  great  deliberation  ;  his 
papers  in  the  Interpreter  acquiesce  in  the  average  Unitarianism  ; 
they  neither  vigorously  sustain  nor  oppose  it.  His  under 
standing  began  to  grow  critical,  and  his  intuitional  beliefs  looked 
through  the  accepted  doctrines,  but  slowly  at  first,  and  not  with 
one  great  gaze. 

Here  is  a  sentence  from  an  article  on  the  "  Alleged  Mistakes 
of  the  Apostles  "  : — 

It  may  be  urged,  that  even  admitting  they  were  thus  mistaken,  no 
important  conclusion  follows  from  the  fact ;  since  supernatural  instruc 
tion  upon  this  subject  was  not  necessary  to  the  propagation  of  the 
Christian  religion,  and  of  course  they  had  received  no  divine  authority 
to  speak  on  the  subject.  But  it  does  appear  important ;  for  had  Paul 
preached  to  the  Thessalonians,  for  example,  that  the  world  would  soon 
perish — as  some  maintain  he  did— and  years  passed  away  without  any 
approach  to  a  fulfilment  of  his  prediction,  they  must  have  lost  confi 
dence  in  his  teachings.  And  we  ourselves  could  scarcely  place  the 
same  unbounded  trust  in  his  other  doctrines. 

This  is  the  ordinary  opinion,  which  grew  into  great  vehemence 
when  Mr.  Parker  afterwards  assailed  it — that  if  the  credibility  of 
one  portion  of  the  Scriptures  be  invalidated,  the  authority  of  the 
whole  is  weakened,  and  that  if  you  begin  to  doubt  you  know 
not  when  to  stop.  Better  answers  to  his  own  original  fallacy 
can  be  found  nowhere  than  in  the  passages  of  his  later  writings, 
which  maintain  that  a  true  thing  has  the  only  conservative 
authority,  which  it  derives  from  its  necessary  intuitive  character, 
and  that  truth  only  is  worth  preserving.  This  is  a  legitimate 
Unitarian  doctrine,  but  the  squatters  were  angry  when  the 
young  men  ran  off  with  the  dangerous  element  to  blow  up  with 
it  fresh  obstacles  in  the  wilderness.  It  was  very  useful  in  the 
Trinitarian  morass,  but  should  be  kept  shut  up  in  magazines 
after  the  country  is  settled. 

The  best  thing  which  he  wrote  for  the  Interpreter  was  an 
analysis  of  the  Laws  of  Moses,  extending  through  several  num 
bers,  all  remarkable  for  their  clear  and  exhaustive  arrangement. 
His  notes  and  authorities  show,  of  course,  a  great  range  of  read 
ing  in  various  languages ;  but  it  is  already  becoming  organized 
by  the  awakening  thought.  Classics,  commentators,  travellers, 
Talmudic  lore,  lend  learning  and  illustration ;  but  without 
parade,  and  never  without  an  object.  It  was  a  very  handsome 
piece  of  work  for  a  divinity  student.  A  more  compact  manual 
of  all  the  details  of  the  Mosaic  law  cannot  be  found  to-day. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  79 

But  it  is  noticeable  also  as  betraying  occasionally  the  transition 
of  his  mind  from  the  ordinary  interpretation  of  the  vindictive 
passages  of  the  Old  Testament  to  his  later  view.  Here  is  a 
passage  to  show  it : — 

Some  critics  think  it  no  grave  heresy  to  deny  that  the  laws  which 
command  the  entire  extirpation  of  the  Canaanites  were  inspired.  They 
think  themselves  safe  in  referring  such  statutes  to  the  difficulty  of  the 
emergency  and  the  hardness  of  men's  hearts,  rather  than  to  the  good 
sense  of  Moses ;  and  still  less  do  they  attribute  them  to  the  counsels 
of  a  God  of  love.  They  think,  too,  that  such  interpreters  as  ascribe 
all  these  sanguinary  laws  to  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  "  take 
more  upon  their  shoulders  than  Atlas  could  bear."  They  admit  the 
inspiration  of  Moses,  but  do  not  suppose  every  word  of  the  law  of  divine 
origin.  We  know  that  many  of  the  particular  statutes  had  no  such 
sanction  expressed.  They  think,  too,  that  the  Oriental  custom  of 
ascribing  all  remarkable  events,  wonderful  appearances,  and  striking 
thoughts  to  the  immediate  action  of  Grod,  explains  the  alleged  command 
of  the  Almighty.  The  religion  of  Moses,  say  they,  was  divine;  but  he 
was  left  to  make  use  of  such  means  as  he  saw  fit  to  govern  the  chosen 
people,  and  to  bring  them  to  the  Land  of  Promise.  When  ordinary 
resources  failed,  miraculous  assistance  was  aiforded.  The  position  of 
Moses,  and  not  his  religion,  is  to  be  held  accountable  for  those  edicts 
apparently  so  sanguinary. 

Here  he  cites  authorities,  and  continues,— 

How  far  the  above  remarks  are  worthy  of  notice  others  will  judge ; 
but  it  must  be  remembered,  the  nations  to  be  extirpated  were  exceed 
ingly  vicious  and  corrupt,  and  if  suffered  to  remain,  would,  doubtless, 
have  led  away  the  Jews  from  their  better  faith.  If  nations  are  by  the 
Divine  permission  visited  with  earthquakes  and  pestilences,  why  may 
not  the  sword  be  employed  for  similar  purposes  ? 

Both  the  confusion  and  the  direction  of  thought  in  this  pas 
sage  are  interesting.  The  good  sense  of  Moses  is  quite  sufficient 
to  account  for  his  policy  towards  the  neighbouring  tribes,  and 
for  the  distinction  which  he  made  between  dangerous  arid  in 
different  neighbours ;  yet  it  was  so  important  that  the  dangerous 
ones  should  be  reduced,  that  the  necessity  might  rank  with  those 
evils  of  the  physical  world  which  depend  upon  Providence  itself, 
and  might  be  therefore  divinely  decreed. 

But  his  intuitive  conviction  that  Infinite  Love  cannot  send  to 
man  decrees  subversive  of  itself,  and  that  the  Christian  spirit 
outgrows  the  cruelty  of  the  Old  Testament,  soon  began  to  fill 
his  mind  with  abhorrence  for  the  very  phrases  which  attribute 
an  exterminating  message  to  the  Lord.  What  jusfc  contempt  he 


80  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

had  for  the  ordinary  interpretation  which  made  a  spirit  of  love 
responsible  for  old  Jewish  vindictiveness,  and  what  ridicule  for 
the  doctrine  which  tries  to  escape  that  imputation  by  supposing 
that  God  was  hard  because  men's  hearts  were ;  that,  at  least,  He 
had  no  alternative  but  to  send  them  the  revengeful  messages 
they  desired  to  hear.  Would  anybody  accept  such  a  plea  made 
by  any  abomination  in  favour  of  itself?  No  pretext  of  piety 
in  making  it,  sincere  or  fraudulent,  would  shelter  any  bad  passion 
from  the  hatred  of  our  unbiassed  honesty ;  and  yet  no  sooner 
does  it  seem  to  be  sanctioned  by  the  name  of  Moses,  and  the 
claim*  to  inspiration  of  a  book,  than  ingenuity  is  exhausted  to 
defend  it,  and  Mr.  Parker  credited  with  a  motive  hostile  to 
religion. 

He  was,  however,  slow  to  clear  his  feeling  of  the  Divine  Per 
fection  from  these  dishonourable  imputations,  that  it  might 
become  for  him  a  reliable  test  of  theology  and  practice.  It  was 
very  effective  in  his  hands  when  he  attacked  the  scriptural 
authority  for  slavery  and  slave-catching.  Anti-slavery  orthodox 
men  were  hampered  by  the  necessity  of  supposing  that  in  old 
times  God  inspired  ignorance  with  ignorance,  and  inhumanity 
with  inhumanity,  the  quality  of  the  Divine  Mind  being  unable  to 
transcend  the  -moral  status  of  the  race.  A  book  places  certain 
old  and  new  iniquities  under  divine  sanction  :  it  would  seem  as 
if  the  alternative  were  to  accept  the  iniquity  or  to  deny  the 
sanction.  Not  at  all  ;  God  was  merely  accommodating  himself 
to  geographical  and  historical  exigencies  !  Mr.  Parker  shows 
that  neither  morals  nor  religion  were  saved  by  such  a  subterfuge 
of  criticism,  that  they  were  rather  put  in  greater  danger  than 
before,  because  the  slaveholder  was  left  at  liberty  to  appeal  to  the 
traditional  sanction  while  pleading  the  exigencies  of  his  position. 
Mr.  Parker  knocked  the  sanction  away,  with  unsparing  strokes ; 
what  health  and  liberty  they  released  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the 
great  sin,  and  what  a  priceless  advantage  he  thus  won  in  dealing 
with  it  !  When  he  redeemed  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament 
from  their  critical  fetters,  and  raised  them  to  the  simple  dignity 
of  being  treated  for  the  sake  of  what  truth  they  might  contain, 
their  truth  of  fact  and  of  human  nature,  he  redeemed  also  reli 
gion  from  her  bondage  to  political  and  commercial  wickedness. 
The  facts  of  the  past  and  the  facts  of  the  present  were  cited  at 
the  bar  of  morality  and  common-sense. 

Who  then,  were  he  now  living,  could  wield  with  greater  effect  the 


THEODOEE   PARKER.  81 

• 

sublime  prophetic  denunciations  of  the  wicked,  the  Psalms  which 
call  upon  God  to  stand  at  the  right  hand  of  the  lovers  of  justice, 
and  to  scatter  its  enemies  ?     Who  would  have  put  the  chapters 
of  ancient  indignation  closer  than  he  to  the  great  conspiracy  of 
iniquity  against    which   he,   too,  prophesied  with  language  as 
sombre,  as  vehement,  as  wrathfully  righteous  as  any  page  of  the 
Old  Testament  affords  ?     Who  could  more  consistently  thunder 
the  old  texts  against  the  modern  villainy,  than  he  who  had  faith 
fully  denied  that  any  text  could  sanction,  at  any  epoch  of  history, 
a  single  crime  ?     He  could  all  the  more  powerfully  quote  the 
justice  of   God  against  the  injustice  of   man,   because  he  had 
always  scorned  to  make  either  God's  love  or  justice  seem  to 
suggest  to  man  one  barbarous  statute,  or  to  inspire  one  crime  of 
history.     Would  that  he  lived !  to  summon  the  old  haters  of 
iniquity  to  his  side,  that  they  might  help  him  hurl  the  verdict  of 
the  past  against  the  blasphemy  of  the  present,  which  quotes  a 
"  Thus  saith  the  Lord  "  against  the  Lord  himself. 

This  he  might  have  done,  not,  however,  from  any  defection  of 
his  own.  He  was  fully  competent  to  upbraid  and  prophesy,  and 
needed  not  to  borrow  a  single  Hebrew  phrase  to  hold  his  new 
sense  of  the  anguish  which  waits  upon  national  iniquities. 

The  doctrine  that  the  moral  intuition  is  the,  critic  of  the 
morality  of  past  and  present  history,  in  books  and  actions,  is 
another  genuine  Unitarian  doctrine.  It  was  well  applied  to  the 
moral  aspects  of  the  dogma  of  the  Atonement,  and  our  instinctive 
sense  of  justice  and  humanity  was  urged  against  its  reputed 
scriptural  authority.  But  it  has  been  applied  but  feebly  in  other 
directions,  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments. 
There  has  been  instead,  a  tendency  to  take  refuge  in  doctrines  of 
accommodation  and  the  second  sense.  The  Universalists  alone, 
as  a  sect,  boldly  put  it  beneath  the  texts  which  affirm  eternal 
damnation,  to  dislodge  them  from  their  seats. 

Mr.  Parker  began  to  write  for  the  Interpreter  in  1835,  and 
wrote  in  all  nearly  forty  articles.  In  translating  "  Astruc's 
Conjectures  upon  Genesis,"  he  hopes  that  it  will  not  create  any 
ausschreien  (outcry)  ;  for  the  editors  remembered  that  they  had 
been  rather  sharply  rebuked  by  somebody  who  had  squatted  very 
early,  for  their  latitudinarianism  on  the  subject  of  Messianic 
Prophecy.  Now,  to-day,  there  is  a  retreating  party,  not  content 
even  to  be  settled,  but  who  have  one  foot  in  the  old  evangelic 


82  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

bog,  looking  about  for  prophecies  and  types,  and  signs,  or  hoping 
that  at  least  some  liturgy  may  peep. 

I  am  in  a  good  deal  of  doubt  upon  the  subject  of  the  prophecies 
relating  to  the  Messiah.  Sometimes  I  doubt  altogether  that  he  was 
ever  prophesied  of  distinctly,  with  sole  reference  to  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 
Indeed,  that  any  inspired  prophecy  was  ever  uttered  concerning  him. 

I  do  not  doubt  that  Jesus  was  a  man  "  sent  from  God,"  and  endowed 
with  power  from  on  high,  that  he  taught  the  truth  and  worked  miracles, 
but  that  he  was  the  subject  of  inspired  prophecy  I  very  much  doubt. 

He  then  proceeds  to  give  an  explanation  of  the  allusions  to 
prophecy  in  the  New  Testament,  and  adds : 

I  know  the  above  would  appear  like  blasphemy  to  many  divines,  but 
I  must  stand  by  my  own  Master,  not  by  another  man.  My  confidence 
in  the  divinity  of  Christ's  character,  of  the  truth  and  sufficiency  of  his 
doctrine,  depends  not  at  all  upon  prophecies,  or  visions,  or  dreams. 

The  miracles  have  little  interest  for  him,  and  little  value.  But 
he  takes  them  for  granted  : 

Mr.  Dewey  gave  us  the  Dudleian  lecture  this  year.  It  was  the  best, 
perhaps,  I  have  ever  heard,  though  upon  the  least  interesting  part  of 
the  Evidences  of  Revealed  Religion,  viz.,  Miracles.  He  removed  the 
presumption  against  them.  The  objections  were  not  only  met,  but 
overturned. 

Ah,  meJ  what  an  infinite  distance  between  me  and  such  men!  But 
what  of  that  ?  My  little  light  may  still  burn  on. . 

Mark,  at  the  same  time,  the  gathering  boldness  of  his  mind 
as  revealed  by  these  extracts  : 

Jonathan  Mayhew's  discourses  show  a  profound  and  bold  thinker, 
one  who  feared  not  the  truth.  Some  call  such  men  rash ;  but  who  dares 
say  that  the  man  who  will  adhere  to  God's  truth  is  rash,  and  who  will 
deny  the  presumption  of  one  who  dares  depart  from  it  ? 

And  here  is  the  result  of  a  call  upon  one  of  the  Professors : 

He  certainly  is  a  very  urbane  man,  and  very  mild  and  gentlemanlike 
in  all  his  deportment ;  but  a  bigot  in  his  opinions.  All  the  Germans 
are  "  raw  "  in  his  opinion.  German  scholars  are  not  accurate.  They 
make  good  dictionaries  and  grammars,  which  are  so  large  that  but  few 
can  use  them.  They  are  "  naturally  unfitted  for  metaphysics,  and  their 
language  still  more  so."  Schleiermacher,  he  supposes,  was  a  "  Pantheist," 
who  did  not  believe  the  immortality  of  the  soul;  at  least,  not  any  per 
sonal  immortality,  only  a  re-absorption  of  the  finite  into  the  infinite. 
"He  gave  up  all  that  renders  Christianity  valuable  and  its  promises 
precious.'*  His  doctrines  were  the  same  with  Spinoza.  He  said  I  was 
happy  in  never  having  read  the  book.  He  acknowledged  that  Schleier 
macher 's  contemporaries  did  not  regard  him  in  this  light. 


THEODOKE   PARKER.  83 

And  the  next  day  lie  calls  upon  an  eminent  Doctor  of  Divinity, 
who  was  settled  in  Boston : 

He  found  fault  with  my  article  in  the  Interpreter,  upon  "Servant 
of  Grod."  Inconsistently,  as  I  think.  He  said  he  was  sorry  to  see  it. 

Thus  he  went  on  slowly,  but  in  perfect  freedom,  and  never 
biassed  by  the  suspicious  criticism  of  narrow  men.  It  was  not 
so  easy  then  as  now  for  a  young  divinity-student  to  keep  at 
arm's  length  the  traditional  authority  of  Boston  and  its  neigh 
bourhood. 

A  good  many  books  on  Gnosticism  were  read  this  term,  and 
some  volumes  of  Kant,  De  Wette,  Ammon's  "  Fortbildung,"  * 
&c. ;  the  passages  which  he  quotes  are  characteristic  of  his 
developing  condition.  Verse-making  does  not  slacken  either — 
"To  Sleep/'  "To  the  Logos,"  "Reflections  at  Midnight," 
"  Spring/'  "  To  a  little  Flower/'  «  To  Lydia  in  Absence."  Let 
the  following  suffice,  entitled  "  Evening :  " —  . 

How  sweetly  from  the  western  sky, 

Day's  lingering  colours  fade : 
How  changing  features  softly  vie — 

Shade  deepening  into  shade ! 

How  softly  comes  the  grateful  calm         & 

Which  mellow  evening  hrings  ; 
The  sweets  of  flowers,  the  breath  of  balm, 

Float  on  the  Zephyr's  wings  ! 

How  soft  that  wandering  cloud  appears, 

As  the  last  tinge  of  day 
Crimsons  the  peak  it  proudly  rears, 

Then  slowly  dies  away ! 

Now  stars  come  forth,  and  one  by  one, 

In  the  broad  field  of  night, 
Who  veiled  their  face  before  the  sun, 

Now  pour  emboldened  light. 

Oh,  night  and  stars  !  your  voice  I  hear 

Swell  round  the  listening  pole  : 
Tour  hymns  are  praises,  loud  and  clear, — 

Are  music  to  my  soul. 

Sing  on,  sing  on,  celestial  band, 

Till  earth  repeats  your  lays, 
Till  the  wide  sea,  the  sky,  the  land, 

Shall  celebrate  His  praise ! 

%  *  He  translated  the  whole  of  Ammon's  "  Formation  of  Christianity,"  and  found  it 
serviceable  in  preparing  De  Wette's  Introduction.  But  the  book  itself  is  of  little  value 
now.  It  was  an  attempt  to  make  Reason  and  History  account  for  orthodox  doctrines, 
and  was  neither  rational  nor  evangelical. 


84  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

TO   MISS   CABOT. 

Jan.  25,  1836. 

Now,  too,  I  fear, — yes,  I  know, — that  you  are  quite  too  fearful  of  my 
over-studying.  Now  I  tell  you  that  I  know  best  about  these  matters, 
and  that  my  conscience  would  as  little  permit  me  to  study  too  much  as 
to  drink  too  much.  I  am  in  no  more  danger  of  one  of  these  vices 
than  of  the  other :  so  I  pray  for  the  future  you  would  rather  urge  me 
to  study  than  dissuade  me  from  it.  I  oftener  eat  too  much  than  study 
too  much.  Reproach  this  sin  as  much  as  you  please 

You  have  none  of  those  stormy,  violent  passions  that  sweep,  tornado- 
like,  through  my  heart.  ...  So  I  speak  truth  when  I  repeat  my 
own  unworthiness. 

The  month  of  April  of  this  year  was  spent  in  a  journey  to 
the  South,  as  far  as  Washington. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

April  13. 

In  the  Senate,  Mr.  King  spoke  upon  the  bill  "  For  Preventing  the 
Circulation  of  Incendiary  Papers,"  of  course  it  applied  only  to  the 
abolition  papers.  Mr.  K.  is  a  tall  thin  gentleman,  with  a  long  sharp 
Roman  nose,  a  high  but  receding  forehead,  large  black  eyebrows,  and  a 
pair  of  keen,  wicked,  black  eyes.  Withal  there  is  a  sort  of  sly  defiance 
written  upon  his  face.  I  did  not  like  his  speaking  much.  He  ranted, 
and  has  a  bad  voice.  He  implicated  Mr.  Calhoun,  who  replied  to-day. 

The  bill  alluded  to  was  one  introduced  by  a  select  committee, 
to  whom  so  much  of  President  Jackson's  message  as  related  to 
the  transmission  by  mail  of  incendiary  documents  had  been 
referred.  It  "  subjected  to  penalties  any  postmaster  who  should 
knowingly  receive  and  put  into  the  mail  any  publication  or 
picture  touching  the  subject  of  slavery,  to  go  into  any  state  or 
territory  in  which  the  circulation  of  such  publication  or  picture 
should  be  forbid  by  the  State  laws."  The  bill  was  eventually 
rejected. 

Upon  that  committee  was  Mr.  King,  of  Georgia,  who  dissented 
to  certain  portions  of  the  bill  and  report  after  they  had  been 
brought  in,  and  charged  Mr.  Calhoun  with  entertaining  princi 
ples  inconsistent  with  the  preservation  of  the  Union,  and  that  he 
was,  in  fact,  only  striving  to  make  a  grave  point  of  the  incen 
diary  documents  in  the  hope  to  reach  a  dissolution  of  the  Union. 
Mr.  King,  of  Alabama,  who  opposed  the  motion  to  refer,  was 
also  sharply  treated  by  Mr.  Calhoun ;  but  Mr.  Parker  alludes  to 
the  Georgian.  "\- 


THEODORE   PARKER.   *  85 

As  it  was  expected  Mr.  Calhoun  would  reply  to-day,  all  were  anxious 
to  get  seats  in  the  Senate  gallery.  I  took  mine  half  an  hour  before 
the  session  commenced,  and  found  a  gentleman  who  pointed  out  to  me 
the  men  of  distinction  as  they  came  in  and  strolled  about,  talking  to 
one  another,  or  writing  at  their  desks.  Mr.  Calhoun  came  in  early, 
and  you  could  see  from  the  thoughtful,  restless  expression  of  his  fine 
face  that  he  was  meditating  something.  He  kept  aloof  from  almost 
all,  and  seemed  lost  in  thought.  About  half-past  one  an  opportunity 
offered  for  his  reply.  The  whole  chamber  was  hushed  when  he  arose 
and  announced  his  intention.  There  was  an  eager  bending  forward  in 
the  galleries  to  hear  him.  He  began  by  lashing  Mr.  King,  who  had 
spoken  of  him  the  day  before.  He  treated  him  with  the  most  complete 
politeness,  and  yet  with  a  severity  of  sarcasm  which  made  Mr.  King 
writhe  in  his  seat  and  gnaw  his  lip.  I  could  watch  the  changing 
expression  of  his  countenance,  now  ashy,  and  now  deadly  pale. 

I  will  tell  you  more  of  this  when  we  see  one  another,  and  of  many 
other  speechifiers. 

I  saw  the  "little  magician"  too;  of  course  none  can  mistake  his 
wily  features.  He  glided  about  before  the  opening  of  the  debate, 
clapping  men  upon  the  shoulders  and  shaking  their  hands.  He  looks 
very  artful  and  naughty.  I  should  fear  that  man. 

Clay  walks  about  in  a  dignified  manner ;  he  is  tall  and  homely,  as 
I  think.  I  see  no  features  of  the  great  man  upon  him. 

Plenty  of  negroes,  of  course,  one  sees  here.  I  saw  in  the  paper  of 
to-day  an  advertisement  offering  cash  for  700  negroes  of  both  sexes. 
That  sounds  harsh  to  Northern  ears.  They  are  a  queer  set,  these 
negroes ;  some  of  them  are  very  merry,  dancing  and  capering  about  on 
the  sidewalk  as  if  they  had  nought  to  do  but  dance.  I  saw  two  negro 
lovers  walking  arm-in-arm,  cooing  and  billing,  as  if  they  could  not 
restrain  their  joy  in  one  another's  presence.  "Why  should  colour 
prevent  them  ? 

Before  May  he  was  at  home  again,  and  at  work. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

Indeed  I  have  felt  blue,  terribly  blue,  all  the  week.  I  never  speculate 
on  the  causes  of  such  chilling  damps  that  come  over  the  soul,  like  a 
frost  in  July,  blasting  all  that  the  sunshine  has  beautified.  It  is 
enough  to  bear  them  without  going  about  to  analyse  the  nature  of  the  , 
complaint,  and  decide  upon  the  exact  quantity  which  was  caused  by  an 
east  wind,  and  tell  how  much  is  physical,  and  how  much  mental.  .  . 

My  muse  has  been  kept  upon  "  thin  potations  "  and  meagre  diet  so 
long  that  she  refuses  to  soar  to-night,  otherwise  she  had  led  you  such 
a  long  and  lofty  flight  as  would  have  quite  worn  down  all  your  celestial 
vigour.  .  .  . 

My  Aonian  rill  is  only  that  very  little  trouting  brook  we  have  so 
often  admired,  and  it  is  far  prettier  than  the  Helicon  of  old. 

Here  are  some  extracts  from  the  journal : — 

Sunday,  May  8. — Preached  for  the  last  time  in  the  chapel,  once 
more,  and  all  is  "over  for  school  exercises ;  then  I  hope  to  preach  to 
real  live  men  and  women. 


86  LIFE*  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Monday,  July  4. — Last  night  I  preached  publicly  in  Mr.  NewelPs 
church.  This  is  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  have  preached  to  a  real 
live  audience.  I  felt  much  embarrassed,  though  perhaps  it  did  not 
show  forth.  Lydia,  my  own  Lydia,  and  her  aunt  came  over  with  me. 
I  was  less  pleased  with  myself  than  they  were  with  me.  To  say  the 
truth,  I  did  not  feel  the  sermon  so  much  as  I  usually  do,  for  the  hour 
usually  spent  in  preparing  for  the  service  was  consumed  in  "  doing  the 
agreeable,"  and  so  I  did  not  get  into  the  sermon  so  much  as  commonly. 

May  G-od  in  his  mercy  grant  me  power  to  improve  in  this  holy 
duty.  May  I  grow  from  strength,  to  strength,  increasing  continually 
in  godliness  and  wisdom,  and  thus  show  forth  pure  and  holy  Christianity 
in  my  life,  no  less  than  in  my  teachings.  Oh,  Grod,  wilt  thou  help  me 
to  become  more  pure  in  heart,  more  holy  and  better  able  to  restrain  all 
impetuous  desires  and  unholy  passions  ;  may  I  "  put  down  every  high 
thing"  that  would  exalt  itself  against  the  perfect  law  of  God.  Help 
me  in  the  intercourse  of  life  to  discharge  my  duties  with  a  more 
Christianlike  fidelity;  to  love  Thee  the  more,  and  those  with  whom 
I  am  to  deal ! 

He  had  been  long  preparing  himself  for  the  "  History  of 
Gnosticism,"  which  was  his  subject  for  Visitation  Day.  "  This 
was  a  'day  of  trembling/  of  sad  uneasiness  to  most  of  us,  a  day 
of  perplexity  to  all." 

His  first  sermons  after  graduating  were  preached,  July  24, 
in  the  meeting-house  at  Watertown  ;  in  the  morning,  from  Matt. 
vi.  33,  and  in  the  afternoon,  xxii.  37. 

This  old  meeting-house  acquired  its  first  distinction  in  the 
Revolution,  when  it  was  selected  as  a  safe  place  for  the  sittings 
of  the  Provincial  Congress.  The  second  Congress  met  there  on 
the  22nd  of  April,  1775.  After  John  Hancock  had  been  chosen 
delegate  to  the  Continental  Congress,  Joseph  Warren  was  the 
presiding  officer.  The  third  and  last  Provincial  Congress 
assembled  in  Watertown  on  the  31st  of  May.  Warren  was 
President,*  and  Samuel  Freeman,  secretary.  The  General  Court, 
which  succeeded  the  Congress,  also  met  in  Watertown,  on  the 
26th  of  July,  and  its  sessions  were  prolonged  till  the  9th  of 
November,  1776,  when  it  adjourned  to  the  State  House  in 
Boston.  The  Council  of  the  General  Court  used  to  hold  its 
sittings  in  the  old  house,  nearly  opposite,  which  is  now  occupied 
by  Mr.  W.  Russell.  Here,  also,  it  is  said  that  a  printing-press 
was  for  some  time  concealed.  I  know  not  whether  it  was  the 

*  The  house  where  Warren  boarded  at  this  time  is  the  one  across  the  bridge  now  occu 
pied  by  Mr.  Robinson.  Here  he  breakfasted  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  of  June,  and 
before  setting  out  for  the  field  urged  the  ladies  to  spend  the  forenoon  in  making  lint. 
Mounting  his  horse  he  rode  slowly  down  towards  the  bridge,  paused,  then,  galloping  back 
to  the  door,  with  kisses  bade  them  all  again  farewell. 


THEODORE   PAEKEE.  87 

one  with  which  Edes  escaped  from  Boston  to  Watertown,  and 
upon  which  he  printed  his  Boston  Gazette  and  Country  Jour 
nal,  from  June  5th,  1775,  to  October  28th,  1776. 

The  meeting-house  was  built  in  1755.  It  stood  upon  land  at 
the  corner  of  Common  and  Mount  Auburn  Streets,  surrounde'd  by 
a  graveyard,  which  now  usurps  theisite  of  the  church  ;  and  the  old 
parishioners  sleep  where  they  only  nodded  before.  It  was  one 
of  the  old-fashioned  square  structures,  called  lanterns,  popularly, 
from  the  two  rows  of  windows  which  went  all  round  it.  In  a 
high. wind,  the  house  was  filled  with  the  chattering  of  the  sashes 
which  time  had  loosened  ;  so  that  the  clergyman,  preaching  in 
the  late  autumn  upon  the  mortality  of  man,  was  never  quite 
sure  whose  voice  turned  the  drowsy  ears  to  seasonable  thoughts. 
Against  one  side  rose  a  tower,  surmounted  by  an  open  belfry, 
which  dwindled  into  a  thin  spire.  The  ancient  cockerel,  which 
promised  fair  to  Warren  as  he  last  rode  by,  is  newly  gilded,  and 
challenges  the  weather  still  on  the  steeple  of  the  Methodist 
church.  Within,  the  old  house  had  a  high  white-pine  pulpit  in 
the  centre  of  one  side,  with  a  pen  in  front  to  enclose  the  com 
munion  table.  When  a  Sunday-school  was  formed,  the  library 
was  deposited  in  a  cupboard  under  the  pulpit.  Overhead  was 
the  sounding-board,  which  once  gathered  Langdon's  sermons, 
and  Hancock's  and  Warren's  treasonable  talk.  Great  deep  gal 
leries  ran  round  three  sides  of  the  house,  places  of  mystery  and 
sombre  imaginings  to  the  little  ones,  who  seldom  even  trooped 
into  their  shadows,  much  less  alone.  Very  venturous  boys,  how 
ever,  such  as  play  truant  at  school  or  run  away  to  sea,  had  been 
up  to  gaze  upon  the  bell. 

In  the  choir,  Thomas  Larned  played  the  double  bass,  and  Wil 
liam  Harrington  the  violoncello,  when  Theodore  gave  out  his 
first  hyrnns  ;  there  was  also  a  a  clarionet,  and  Deacon  Bailey  sang 
bass.  The  body  of  the  church  was  filled  with  highbacked  pews, 
whose  seats  were  lifted  during  prayer,  and  clattered  down  with 
the  amen.  My  informant  says  that  it  was  a  source  of  great 
grief  to  him  that  his  father's  pew-seats  would'nt  slam.  All  the 
other  boys  amened  in  concert. 

The  meeting-house  was  little  changed  from  its  revolutionary 
aspect,  excepting  that  a  one-story  addition  had  been  made  to  it, 
to  accommodate  the  growth  of  the  parish,  which  was  somewhat 
flippantly  styled  "  The  Kitchen."  Here  Theodore  preached  in 
the  forenoon  upon  the  "  Necessity  of  a  Heavenly  life,"  and  in 


88 


LIFE   OF  THEODOEE   PARKER. 


the  afternoon  upon  "  Keligion,  a  Principle  and  Sentiment."  He 
was  not  so  flowery  as  his  old  friends  anticipated,  but  more 
simple  and  direct. 

These  two  sermons  closed  a  fortnight  of  entire  repose,  spent 
in  the  society  of  the  one  he*  loved  best.  At  the  end  of  that 
time,  however,  he  suddenly  musters  together,  accuses  himself  of 
indolence,  and  almost  depreciates  the  joy  from  which  he  must 
break  away. 

I  am  not  so  cold-hearted  as  to  wander  among  the  gardens  of  the 
graces  with  no  sense  that  riots,  and  no  soul  that  thrills.  Nay,  my  heart 
has  been  warmed  by  the  sweetest,  I  had  almost  said,  the  noblest 
impulses  ;  but  it  does  not  advance  me  in  the  journey  of  life  as  I  would 
wish  to  move.  It  does  not  allow  my  soul  to  unfold  its  wings  in  this 
fledging-place  and  trial-ground,  to  prepare  for  the  lofty  and  dangerous 
flight  when  it  must  "sail  with  uplift  wing,"  against  tempest  and  storm. 
I  have  sterner  deeds  to  do.  Greater  dangers  to  dare.  I  must  be  about 
my  work. 

In  this  prophetic  mood  he  went  forth  to  preach. 


HOUSE   OP  MRS.  BROAD,    AND   SCHOOL-HOUSE. 


THE    VILLAGE    MKE1IKG-HODSE,   SPRING    STREET,  WEST    ROXBURY. 


CHAPTER   V. 

A  Candidate — 1836-37 — Marriage — Settlement  at  West  Roxbury— Neighbours  and 
Studies — Choice  Friends — Dr.  Charming — Mr.  Emerson's  Discourse,  1838 — Strauss 
— Gome-Outers — Doubts  about  Physical  and  Moral  Evil — Thoughts  and  Queries — 
1840. 

BUT  an  itinerant  vendor  of  the  gospel,  commonly  called  a 
candidate,  is  not  a  beautiful  or  heroic  personage.  Men  hang 
his  presageful  heart  on  the  hooks  of  their  parochial  steelyards, 
and  narrowly  scrutinize  the  figures.  He  pockets  his  presage, 
and  it  makes  no  difference  in  the  weight. 

In  July  Mr.  Parker  received  an  invitation  to  preach  for  four 
weeks  at  Barnstable.  He  started  in  the  packet-schooner  Sappho, 
and  had  his  first  marine  experience. 

Only  one  cabin,  which  was  to  serve  as  lodgment  and  lounging-room 
for  the  evening  and  night  for  more  than  twenty  men  and  women.  The 
ladies  went  down  about  ball-past  eight,  for  it  was  cold.  Soon  after,  at 
nine,  I  descended,  almost  perpendicularly.  They  had  gotten  into  their 


90  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

several  berths,  and  were  there  lying  with  the  curtains  undrawn.  I  sat 
rather  awkwardly,  and  chatted  and  laughed  with  them,  who  did  not 
seem  at  all  disturbed  by  the  peculiarity  of  the  scene.  By-and-bye  I, 
too,  crept  into  a  crib,  one  lady  above  me,  another  at  my  head,  and  a 
third  at  my  feet. 

All  night  long  there  was  a  noise;  some  getting  up,  and  others 
getting  down ;  roisterous  fellows  carousing,  children  crying,  vagitus  et 
ingens,  and  mothers  attempting  to  quiet  them.  Sleep*  went  up  the 
hatchway,  but  did  not  find  good  quarters,  and  so  came  in  with  me,  and 
staid  till  nearly  five  A.M. 

41 

On  arriving  he  repaired  to  Mrs.  Whitman's  boarding-house. 

TO   MISS    CABOT. 

August  6,  1836. 

We  have  three  boarders  besides  myself,  viz.:  Mr.  Drew,  the  school 
master — i.  e.  he  keeps  a  private  academy ;  Mr.  Brown,  who  keeps  the 
store  and  post-office  opposite  ;  and  "  Squire  Reed,"  cousin  of  the  Hon. 
John  Reed.  He  is  Register  of  Probate,  and  several  other  things ; 
besides,  he  is  a  good,  pleasant  companion,  and  keeps  the  table  alive. 
He  is  about  forty-five  or  fifty ; — the  others  are  young  men.  After 
each  meal  they  retire  to  one  of  their  rooms,  and  sit  and  smoke  pipes 
in  a  right  friendly  and  old-fashioned  manner  for  about  half  an  hour. 
This  takes  place  regularly  after  each  meal.  It  amuses  me  very  much, 
for  I  usually  join  them  in  the  conversation,  though  at  the  pipe  I 
reluct 

I  trust  you  will  not  hang  the  leaden  collar  of  "  be  careful  and  not 
do  too  much,"  about  my  neck. 

At  Barnstable  he  found  out  the  most  notable  people,  made 
their  acquaintance,  and  drew  them  into  conversation.  This  he 
never  failed  to  do  in  every  new  place,  to  satisfy  his  thirst  for 
facts  of  every  description.  And  he  afterwards  used  to  keep 
lists  of  people  worth  knowing  in  the  various  towns  where  he 
lectured,  and  whose  acquaintance  he  meant  to  cultivate.  The 
persons  thus  selected  were  intelligent  in  some  calling,  or  attrac 
tive  by  moral  and  spiritual  characteristics.  He  was  always 
particularly  drawn  towards  persons  of  great  amiability  and 
high  conscience.  If  they  were  shrewd  and  full  of  facts,  so 
much  the  better  ;  but  he  seemed  to  love  the  artless  man  of  a 
noble  natural  growth.  For  the  society  of  such,  he  would  re 
linquish  that  of  scholars  and  cultivated  men.  In  his  list  of 
favourites  the  greater  number  are  the  names  of  happy,  unpre 
tending,  healthy  people,  with  an  unspoiled  sense  of  right  and 
wrong. 


THEODORE   PARKEB.  91 

TO   MISS  -CABOT. 

August  10,  1 836. 

I  felt  somewhat  awkward  at  first,  as  you  may  suppose,  but  I  remem 
bered  the  command,  "Now  show  what  ye  le"  and  made  an  effort.  I 
never  felt  in  better  spirits  for  speaking,  and  not  only  delivered  the 
written  Word,  but  added  much  that  was  better  and  more  reaching  ex 
temporaneously ,  | 

I  have  been  busy.  I  have  read  almost  all  my  books — I  had  about 
a  dozen — and  have  written  two  sermons.  The  air  of  the  place 
braces  one's  whole  soul.  I  could  devour  a  whole  library  in  a  week.  I 
think  I  should  write  three  new  sermons  a  week  all  the  time  I  am  here, 
but  I  have  only  enough  of  my  favourite  paper  for  two  more. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

August  14,  1836. 

It  seems  to  me  as  if  my  mind  had  grown  a-pace  in  some  departments 
since  I  came  here.  I  hoped  it  would.  It  seems  to  me  I  can  feel  a  sort 
mental  crystallization  taking  place  within  me,  which  brings  order  out  of 
chaos.  I  hope  I  am  not  self-deceived  in  this  regard. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

August  22,  1836. 

Saturday  is  one  of  no  little  anxiety  with  me,  and  I  am  somewhat 
given  to  "jactations  "  on  that  night.  This  I  hope  to  overcome,  and 
finally  to  lie  as  stark  and  stiff  in  bed  of  a  Saturday  night  as  a  Cape 
Cod  fisherman 

The  sermon  was  a  new  one :  the  greatness  of  Christ's  character,  its 
sources  and  its  uses.  I  never  felt  one  of  my  sermons  more,  nor  was 
ever  in  a  happier  mood  for  delivery.  Everything  went  right,  and  some 
of  the  least  bad  parts  of  the  discourse  were  extemporaneous. 

Nobody  ever  speaks  to  me  about  the  sermons ;  they  all  have  a 
proper  delicacy  about  that,  which  is  a  little  uncommon,  too,  among 
such  people,  perhaps.  But  to-day  Mrs.  Whitman  said  that  Mr.  Heed, 
our  fellow-boarder,  you  know,  said  it  was  "  the  greatest  sermon  he  ever 
heard." 

This  was  a  busy  Sunday ;  with  two  funerals,  a  Sunday-school,  two 
services,  a  visit  to  the  sick,  and  calls  in  the  evening. 

This  closed  the  labours  of  the  day,  being  the  seventh  public  prayer  I 
had  made.  You  may  suppose  I  felt  no  little  fatigue  after  such  a  variety 
of  emotions  in  a  single  day.  I  went  to  bed  quite  early,  but  I  "  gat"  as 
little  sleep  as  King  David  did  heat  in  his  old  age.  But  this  morning  I 
feel  like  a  giant  refreshed  by  the  slumber  of  ages,  and  am  gay  as  a 
lark. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

August  23,  1836. 

You  must  tell  your  aunt  that  if  I  were  to  stay  a  thousand  years  I 
should  not  outlast  that  vile  tremor ;  it  is  an  infirmity  that  will  cling 
to  me.  I  can  no  more  help  it  than  a  lady  can  keep  from  fainting  in  a 


92  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

crowd.  Nor  again  do  I  wish  entirely  to  avoid  it,  as  it  is  a  source  of 
earnest  feeling,  and  so  of  strength,  for  it  never  lets  memory  slip  or  the 
tongue  falter. 

Here  is  a  difficulty  which  the  style  of  his  earlier  culture 
helped  him  to  overcome 

TO   W.    SILSBEE. 

Barnstable,  August  21,  1836. 

-How  disqualified  we  are  for  contact  with  the  real  world  I  felt  when 
first  shown  a  real  live  man ;  and  when  brought  to  speak  with  him  I 
was  utterly  at  a  stand,  and  scarcely  knew  what  to  say.  Thus,  indeed, 
we  come  away  from  our  three  years'  studies  at  Divinity  College,  with 
some  little  knowledge  of  science,  literature,  philology  ;  peradventure 
some  small  inklings  of  theology  and  metaphysics, — nay,  even  a  little 
knowledge  of  the  science  of  things  in  general  (atterlei  -  Wissenschafi) ,  and 
with  heards  on  our  chins,  but  with  no  other  marks  of  manhood.  Now, 
I  maintain  that,  besides  a  great  deal  of  knowledge,  one  needs  as  much 
skill  to  make  it  of  any  use  to  him.  Allerlei-Kunst,  then,  we  need  to  set 
off  our  allerlei  -  Wissenschaft. 

This  art  of  things  in  general  I  hope  I  have  made  some  little  advances 
in  since  I  came  to  Barnstable.  Indeed,  it  seems  to  me  I  have  grown 
in  this  regard,  so  that  I  can  really  talk  to  men  as  if  I  were  also  a 
man,  and  not  a  student  merely.  A  mere  student  is  a  sort  of  homun- 
culus,  an  animal  not  treated  by  Pliny,  except  incidentally,  when  he 
speaketh  of  the  war  they  once  carried*  on  against  their  arch-enemies, 
the  cranes. 

TO   THE    SAME. 

I  have  been  called  to  officiate  at  three  funerals,  and  it  was  a  solemn 
matter.  I  wept, — not  so  much,  perhaps,  as  the  mourners,  but  as 
heartily — from  very  sorrow.  Who  could  see  so  many  weep  and  not 
join  them  in  such  a  time  ?  I  could  not  help  it 

I  know  not  where  I  shall  go  after  the  next  Sabbath.  I  can  stay 
here,  but — haud  ego.  Touching  the  place  and  the  people,  I  like  both 
very  much,  and  hate  to  leave  them,  for  I  "  would  not  willingly  lose 
sight  of  a  departing  cloud  ; "  but  you  know  I  have  not  seen  my 
Skit/born  these  near  three  weeks,  a  separation  which  very  ill  comports 
with  my  desires. 

TO  ME.  FRANCIS. 

BarnstaHe,  12  Nov.,  1836. 

MY  DEAR  SIE, — I  received  a  letter  from  Miss  Cabot  just  now,  stating 
that  you  mentioned  that  Mr.  Burton  would  like  to  have  me  supply  his 
pulpit  for  a  time.  I  should  be  exceedingly  happy  to  serve,  if  by  so 
doing  I  do  not  debar  myself  the  opportunity  of  preaching  elsewhere 
with  a  view  to  a  permanent  settlement.  If  I  supply  his  pulpit,  and  do 
Dot  preach  there  all  the  time,  I  can  get  those  to  take  my  place  who  will 
doubtless  do  much  better  than  I  can.  I  shall  be  exceedingly  happy  to 
come  upon  these  conditions,  and  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  in- 


THEODORE   PARKER  93 

form  him  of  it,  you  will  muck  oblige  me.  I  would  have  written  him, 
and  not  have  troubled  you,  but  I  am  but  little  acquainted  with  him,  and 
I  have  other  matters  to  speak  of  with  you. 

Sundry  of  my  friends  wish  me  to  settle  at  Spring  Street  Church,  in 
Koxbury.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  I  suppose  it  is  not  regarded  as  a 
desirable  parish  by  most  men,  but  there  are  certain  reasons  which  make 
me  look  towards  it  most  favourably.  I  should  like  your  opinion  upon 
the  matter,  and  I  will  come  up  to  Watertown'as  soon  as  I  leave  B.,  and 
confer  with  you  upon  it.  I  am  weary  of  "  candidating  ;"  it  is  not  only 
a  "  weariness  unto  the  flesh,"  but  unto  the  spirit.  Men  go  to  church 
when  a  youngster  is  to  hold  forth,  not  to  hear  something  good,  but  some 
thing  new,  and  talk  of  the  services  at  home,  rather  that  he  may  be  criticised 
than  that  themselves  may  be  edified.  So  one  cannot  comfort  himself 
with  the  knowledge  that  he  does  any  good.  Besides,  the  frequent 
change  of  place  is  bad  to  "mind,  body,  and  estate."  One  cannot 
pursue  quiet  studies  ;  he  can  scarcely  grow  in  mind  or  in  spirit  when 
he  is  so  frequently  transplanted.  I  sometimes  say,  with  the  melan 
choly  prophet,  "  Oh,  that  I  had  a  lodging  place  of  wayfaring  men  in 
the  wilderness,  that  I  might  turn  in  thither  and  be  refreshed !"  When 
and  where  I  shall  find  it  I  know  not.  If  I  am  at  R.  I  shall  be  near 
you  and  Mr.  Stetson,  and  the  College  Library,  to  say  nothing  of  other 
persons  and  things  which  will  be  within  hail.  I  hope  to  give  you  that 
"  labour  of  love  "  I  have  so  long  intended  before  the  month  is  out,  but 
I  cannot  determine  with  certainty.  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for 
the  present  of  your  three  sermons.  I  trust  I  shall  read  them  with  as 
much  pleasure  as  I  listened  to  them,  and  with  still  more  profit,  for  they 
contain  matter  to  be  chewed  upon.  Please  to  give  my  respects  to  Mrs. 
F.,  and  believe  me,  truly  yours,  THEO.  PARKEB. 

1836,  August  11.— Began  to  translate  De  Wette's  "Einleitung" 
(Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament).  I  cannot  tell  what  will  be  the 
result  of  this.  I  shall  leave  that  for  another  time  to  determine. 
Meanwhile  I  will  go  quietly  on  translating  it  gradually  as  I  wish, 
without  interrupting  important  studies. 

He  read  Schelling's  lectures  upon  Academic  Study,  and  pro 
nounced  them  too  ideal ;  "  an  ideal  within  his  own  subjectivity, 
which  is  an  impossible  real,  and  contains  the  elements  of  its  own 
destruction,  since  it  involves  a  contradiction/' 

He  went  to  a  Barnstable  tea-gathering,  where  among  various 
goodly  people,  was  a  pompous  old  sea-captain  from  Boston,  who 
had  retired  with  a  great  deal  of  money  :  "  hand  decet  mihi 
facere  notas,  non  mei  peculium  est.  Mehercle  !  " 

These  are  notes  made  after  attending  a  Methodist  camp-meet 
ing  at  Eastham  : 

The  women  I  noticed  were  always  the  most  noisy.  But  I  was  much 
struck  with  the  cool  indifference  of  one  young  woman,  who  sat  very 


94  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

quietly  munching  gingerbread,  while  all  the  process  of  "bringing  in  " 
was  taking  place  around  her. 

I  always  noticed,  too,  that  the  least  learned  were  the  most  violent — 
had  most  of  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Lord,"  as  they  said.  This  accounts  for 
the  low  opinion  of  learning  among  them,  and  for  the  great  power  of 
Whitefield,  who  was  all  passion  and  feeling. 

The  uninterested  apologetic  tone  of  one  remark  is  amusing, 
when  we  recollect  what  thunder  shook  the  Music-Hall  in  after 
years : — 

There  was  occasionally  a  touch  upon  slavery.     "Who  wonders  at  it  ? 

He  left  Barnstable  at  the  close  of  his  engagement,  trusting 
that  they  would  find  such  a  man  as  they  needed,  but  doubting 
that  be  was  that  man.  The  parish  in  Northfield  sent  for  him 
next.  He  spent  there  a  part  of  Oclbober,  and  received  an  invi 
tation  to  settle,  but  declined  it.  Then  he  returned  to  Barn- 
stable  for  the  month  of  November,  and  the  good  people  pro 
posed  to  give  him  a  call,  but  he  intercepted  their  intention, 

Since  it  would  involve  an  entire  exclusion  from  books  and  literary 
society.  Never  do  I  expect  to  find  so  noble  and  generous  and  true- 
hearted  a  people.  But  others  can  labour  there  more  effectually  than  I, 
to  whom  absence  of  books  is  no  evil.  There  would  be  a  general  excla 
mation  among  my  books  if  they  are  carried  to  the  Cape,  from  the 
Beimkennar  of  Sweden  to  Saadi  and  Eerdousi.  But  still,  did  not  I 
know  that  others  are  to  be  found  who  will  be  called  upon  to  make  no 
sacrifices  in  going  thither,  then  would  I  hesitate  not,  but  instantly 
plant  myself  among  these  noble  men  of  the  Cape,  and  live,  and  love, 
and  labour  there. 

The  death  of  his  father  occurred  at  tbis  time. 

TO   MISS    CABOT. 

Nov.  10,  1836. 

I  received  your  letter,  my  dear  Lydia,  as  I  never  fail  to -do,  with  un 
speakable  pleasure  and  satisfaction ;  but  if  the  outside  gave  me  pleasure, 
and  the  inside  told  me  what  I  had  long  expected,  yet  I  cannot  deny 
that  the  intelligence  found  me  unprepared.  I  had  fondly  put  off  the 
day  of  his  departure,  and  when  the  event  was  told  me,  my  sorrow  was 
tenfold  greater  than  I  had  anticipated. 

After  I  read  your  letter,  and  sat  silent  and  lonely  by  my  own  fire, 
I  could  almost  see  his  fathers  of  other  days,  the  wife  of  his  youth,  and 
his  children  and  long-separated  friends  pressing  gloriously  around  him 
to  take  him  once  more  to  their  hearts.  I  lament  not  for  him  ;  he  has 
no  sigh  to  stifle,  no  tear  to  wipe  away.  But  how  can  I,  who  have  been 
cradled  in  his  arms,  fed  by  his  hands,  blessed  by  his  prayers,  and 
moulded  by  his  tender  care,  how  can  I  forbear  lamenting  now  he  is 
gone? 


THEODORE   PARKER.  95 

But  enough  of  this.  He  is  gone.  Let  us  say  no  more  about  it ;  and 
now  I  entreat  you  to  say  nothing  upon  that  subject  in  your  letters,  nor 
when  we  meet.  A  thousand  circumstances  will  bring  it  all  up  before 
me  again  and  again ;  do  not  let  us  multiply  them  without  need. 

The  valley  of  tears,  if  dwelt  in,  hath  a  poisonous  influence  upon  the 
soul ;  but  if  only  occasionally  passed  through,  it  is  full  of  healing 
waters  and  fountains  of  strength. 

A  list  of  works,  comprising  320  volumes,  drawn  up  at  the 
close  of  1836,  shows  his  reading  for  fourteen  months.  They  are 
in  various  languages,  and  the  best  books  on  the  subjects  of  which, 
they  treat. 

In  December  be  went  to  Salem  to  supply  the  pulpit  of  Dr. 
Flint,  who  was  ill.  He  spent  the  time  very  pleasantly  at  the 
house  of  his  classmate  Silsbee  ;  some  dialogues  of  Plato  were  bis 
reading,  with  various  books  for  a  meditated  lecture  upon  Ety 
mology.  The  fine  lines  which  bave  often  been  quoted  were 
written  this  winter. 

Jesus,  there  is  no  dearer  name  than  thine, 

Which  Time  has  blazoned  on  his  mighty  scroll ; 

No  wreaths  nor  garlands  ever  did  entwine 

So  fair  a  temple  of  so  vast  a  soul. 

There  every  virtue  set  his  triumph-seal ; 

"Wisdom,  conjoined  with  strength  and  radiant  grace, 

In  a  sweet  copy  Heaven  to  reveal, 

And  stamp  perfection  on  a  mortal  face ; 

Once  on  the  earth  wert  Thou,  before  men's  eyes, 

That  did  not  half  Thy  beauteous  brightness  see ; 

E'en  as  the  emmet  does  not  read  the  skies, 

Nor  our  weak  orbs  look  through  immensity. 

Among  otber  books,  tbe  English  State  Trials  were  carefully 
studied. 

Very  soon  tbe  following  questions  are  put  down  for  con 
sideration. 

I.  Sundry  Questions  in  Theology. 

1.  What  is  the  extent  of  known  supernatural  Eevelation 

made  to  man  ? 

2.  What  is  the  foundation  of  the  authority  of  Jesus  Christ  ? 

3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  Faith  in  Old  and,  New  Testament. 

4.  How  is  Christ  more  a  Saviour  than  Socrates  ? 

5.  Why  did  the  world  need  a  Saviour  ? 

6.  What  has  been  his  influence  ? 

7.  Is  Christianity  to  be  a  universal  Eeligion  ? 

8.  What  is  the  foundation  of  Eeligion  in  Man — the  Design 

of  Miracles— the  pretence  of  them  in  other  Eeligions  ? 


96  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

II.  Questions  in  Scriptural  Criticism  and  Exegesis. 

1.  The   authenticity   of   the   beginning   of   the    Gospels   of 

Matthew  and  Luke — The  Miraculous  Conception. 

2.  The  Resurrection — why  was  the  body  of  Christ  raised  ? — 

why  "  carried  up  ?  "  How  is  the  resurrection  of  matter 
proof  of  the  Immortality  of  Spirit  ?  Is  not  the  material 
^Resurrection  of  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ  unspiritualizing? 

It  is  very  evident  that  his  conventional  theology  is  about  to 
receive  a  thorough  over-hauling.  But  these  questions  were  not 
disposed  of  in  a  day. 

We  find  him  preaching  in  Greenfield  during  February,  1837, 
after  another  visit  to  Northfield  in  January. 

TO   MISS    CABOT. 

Feb.  10,  1837. 

The  very  air  of  Greenfield  inspires  me,  although  you  see  no  traces 
thereof  in  the  letter,  and  I  feel  more  a  man ;  the  cool  wind  from  the 
north  braces  the  outer  man,  and  the  sight  of  mountains  and  great  trees 
and  wide  meadows  refreshes  the  inner  man  not  a  little. 

Besides  all  this  I  have  seen  little  things  which  encourage  me,  make 
me  wiser  if  not  better. 

Walking  the  other  day  in  the  woods—  i.e.,  in  a  road  which  goes 
steeply  through  the  woods — in  the  midst  of  the  snow  at  the  bottom  of 
the  steep  hill,  there  was  a  little  spring  of  water,  clear  as  the  sky  above, 
and  as  unruffled,  not  frozen,  though  winter  had  set  her  seal  stiffly  upon 
everything  around.  Over  this  beautiful  spring  there  arose  a  great  oak, 
very  old  and  "  stern  to  look  upon,"  one  which  had  mocked  at  many 
winters.  Now,  this  great  oak  clasped  a  young  hemlock  tree  with  its 
arms,  and  seemed  to  hold  it  in  shelter  from  all  the  rude  blasts  of  time. 
The  younger  tree  had  evidently  grown  up  under  its  protection,  and 
now  repaid  its  defender  by  looking  kindly  upon  him  when  his  own 
leaves  had  all  fallen  away.  It  was  beauty  in  the  arms  of  strength. 

All  this  living  scene  was  reflected  in  the  little  spring,  which  seemed 
to  smile  at  the  tenderness  of  these  giant  plants.  One  would  walk  about 
the  streets  of  Boston  a  thousand  years  without  meeting  such  a  com 
forter  as  this.  But  in  the  country  there  is  a  tale  in  everything,  and 
every  little  object  in  nature  hath  its  beauty  to  please  by,  and  its  moral 
to  instruct  with.  Indeed,  the  country  is  .a  great  "  system  of  divinity," 
while  the  city  is  but  "  a  commercial  dictionary,"  a  "  ready  reckoner,"  or 
a  "cook-book." 

TO   THE  SAME. 

Feb.  13. 

You  know  I  lamented  the  missing  of  Mr.  Emerson's  lectures,  but  a 
single  walk  along  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  or  among  the  hills,  or  a 
moment's  listening  to  the  pine's  soft  music,  have  taught  me  more  than 
Mr.  Emerson  and  all  the  Boston  Association  of  Ministers. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  97 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Peb.  24. 

You  do  not  know  how  delighted  I  have  been  with  my  quiet  stay  in 
this  beautiful  place — apart  from  the  absence  of  Miss  Lydia.  I  have 
done  more  in  the  way  of  reading  and  writing  and  study  than  in  the  last 
two  months  before,  to  say  nothing  of  the  glorious  walks  and  comfort 
able  chattings  I  have  had  ;  for  Mr.  Davis  kindly  comes  in  almost  every 
night,  and  sometimes  stays  till  the  witching  time  of  twelve.  Without 
him  I  should  have  died  at  least  once  a  day.  Paul  says  he  did  that,  and 
the  Apostle  was  not  engaged  and  away  from  his  lady.  Mrs.  D.  is  a 
sweet  woman,  and  a  sensible.  I  almost  envy  them  their  cup  of  con 
nubial  happiness,  but  we  will  have  one  soon,  as  generous  and  divinely 
tempered.  I  do  not  know  anything  in  contemplation  more  delightful 
than  this,  that  we  may  find  some  place  where  we  may  receive  enough  of 
this  world's  treasures ;  may  labour  in  the  most  noble  and  divine  of  em 
ployments  which  man  can  conceive  of,  giving  a  loftier  action  to 
humanity  •  may  exercise  mutually  the  kindliest  feelings  of  the  heart, 
the  intellect,  and  the  soul,  founding  at  the  same  time  a  family  which 
shall  bear  up  our  name,  know  our  virtues,  reflect  the  sunshine  of  our 
hearts,  and  finish  our  work.  Can  you  conceive  anything  more  noble 
than  this  ?  I  confess  I  cannot. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Feb. 

Only  think  that  after  a  little  bit  of  a  courtship  of  some  four  years 
we  are  at  length  on  the  very  brink  of  Matrimony !  "Within  a  span's 
length  of  the  abyss !  "Without  a  parish  too !  Think  of  that !  520 
dollars  a  year,  may  be — may  be  much  less — to  support  a  wife.  Why,  I 
intend  to  commence  such  a  rigorous  system  of  sparing  that  I  shall 
never  cross  a  t  nor  dot  an  i ;  for  I'll  save  ink.  I  dreamed  last  night  of 
being  at  a  bookstore,  and  when  the  clerk  showed  me  some  book  which 
I  had  long  been  seeking,  and  at  a  price  most  villainously  cheap,  "  Oh, 
no,"  said  I ;  "I  shall  never  buy  more  books;  at  any  rate,  never  so  cheap. 
I  am  a-going  to  be  married!"  and  down  went  the  corners  of  my  mouth 
till  they  touched  my  stock.  But  if  soft  words  can  win  hard  coin,  if 
there  is  any  money-getting  virtue  in  a  knowledge  of  some  twenty 
tongues,  any  talent  in  my  mind,  or  any  magic  in  the  most  unshrinking 
labour,  I  will  take  care  that  a  wife  do  not  beggar  the  soul  of  the  means 
of  growth  and  nobleness.  If  I  can  find  anything  to  do  in  the  literary 
way  which  will  get  one  coin,  be  it  never  so  hard,  so  it  conflict  with  no 
duty,  I  will  put  forth  my  might,  be  it  little,  be  it  much. 

TO   S.    P.    ANDREWS. 

Greenfield,  Feb.  15. 

Sometimes,  Samuel,  I  fear  lest  I  have  missed  it  capitally  in  becoming  a 
minister;  that  as  a  lawyer,  or  in  other  departments  of  thought  and  action, 
I  might  have  been  more  useful,  and  at  the  same  time  free  from  a  certain 
restraining  bond — invincible,  but  strong  as  fate — which  convention  has 
tied  up  every  minister  withal.  I  do  not  even  think  of  deserting  a 
ministry  which  would  dignify  angels,  and  has  been  honoured  by  the 
8 


98  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Son  of  God  himself.  No :  I  never  think  of  that ;  for  I  deem  it  writ 
down  in  my  duty  to  preach  the  Gospel,  come  of  it  what  will ;  and 
although  some  of  my  dearest  expectations  have  already  been  disap 
pointed,  still  I  shall  "bear  up  and  steer,  with  upright  wing,  right 
onward,  nor  bate  one  jot  of  heart  nor  hope." 

Yet  sometimes  the  thought  comes  mightily  upon  me,  "  Thou  hast 
mistaken  thy  calling !" 

One  sole  thing  encourages  me,  to  wit,  I  know  that  one  who  keeps 
God's  "  Laws  of  the  Spirit  of  Life,"  and  puts  forth  his  might  manfully 
in  obedience  thereto,  be  his  might  never  so  little — be  it  less  than  mine 
even — he  has  for  his  friend  and  ally  and  co-worker  the  entire  almighti- 
ness  and  perfect  virtue  of  God.  With  such  a  co-adjutor  it  is  nobler 
to  be  conquered,  dragged  at  the  wheels  of  the  enemy,  yea,  trodden  to 
dust  by  his  followers,  who  shout  aloud,  "  Great  is  Mammon  of  the 
Yankees !"  than  to  engage  in  any  other  warfare. 

Therefore  shall  I  go  on ;  consequences  I  have  nothing  to  do  with, 
they  belong  to  God — to  me  belongs  only  duty.  All  that  I  have  give  I  to 
the  one  cause. 

He  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  in  Salem  in  the  spring  of  1837, 
occasionally  preaching ;  there  are  very  meagre  records  of  con 
versations  with  superior  people,  some  of  whom  became  friends 
for  life. 

On  the  20th  of  April  his  marriage  took  place.  And  on  the 
20th  of  May  he  finished  translating  De  Wette's  "  Introduction/' 
which  was  the  least  part  of  the  labour  that  preceded  the  publi 
cation  of  that  work. 

I  now  intend  to  revise  the  work  diligently,  to  add  notes  from  various 
writers,  and  to  append  divers  essays  and  dissertations. 

He  had  preached  several  times  at  West  Roxbury,  and  at 
Waltham,  and  received  a  call  from  both  parishes.  He  was  also 
sought  from  Concord  and  Leominster,  as  well  as  Greenfield.  He 
was  awhile  irresolute  which  to  accept,  but  finally  returned  a 
favourable  answer  to  the  call  from  West  Roxbury,  which  he 
received  on  the  23rd  of  May. 

His  ordination  took  place  on  the  21st  of  June.  Dr.  Henry 
Ware,  sen.,  attended  as  a  delegate  from  the  college  chapel, 
John  Quincy  Adams  was  the  delegate  from  Quincy,  Dr.  Francis 
delivered  the  sermon,  Henry  Ware,  jun.,  made  the  ordaining 
prayer,  Caleb  Stetson  delivered  the  charge,  and  George  Ripley 
gave  the  right  hand  of  fellowship.  His  classmate,  John  S. 
1) wight,  wrote  for  this  occasion  an  original  hymn.  In  1849, 
recalling  his  ordination,  he  writes  : — 

These  men  had  some  hopes  of  me,  that  I  might  prove  an  ornament 
and  a  pillar  of  the  Church !  Now  they  look  on  me  as  a  destroyer  and 


THEODORE    PARKER.  99 

a  foe !  Yet  certainly  I  have  been  diligent  and  laborious.  If  I  could 
have  looked  forward  twelve  years,  I  should  have  trembled,  and  said, 
"  Oh,  Lord,  send  by  another  hand,  not  mine !  "  Henry  Ware,  in  his 
ordaining  prayer,  after  Dr.  Francis  had  recommended  study,  prayed 
that  I  might  be  a  preacher  of  righteousness — "  may  no  fondness  for 
peculiar  studies  ever  divert  him  from  doing  Thy  work."  I  hope  it  has 
been  as  he  would.  Surely  I  have  not  sought  ease,  or  fame,  or  wealth. 
On  many  things  I  have  disappointed  myself — in  some  things  a  little 
surpassed.  I  expected  rather  to  be  a  scholar  than  a  reformer — I  mean, 
I  looked  to  books  as  my  means  of  reform.  I  did  mean  to  be  a  reformer. 

In  this  quiet  little  parish,  of  about  sixty  families,  the  paro 
chial  demands  upon  the  clergyman  were  easily  met.  He  inte 
rested  himself  in  town  matters,  and  as  a  committee-man  regu 
larly  visited  all  the  schools.  Still  there  was  a  good  deal  of  time 
for  books  and  the  garden.  The  pleasant  white  house,  about  a 
mile  from  the  church,  stood  close  to  the  straggling  village  street, 
but  the  study  looked  out  through  trees  upon  flowers,  vines,  and 
garden-beds.  Two  fine  tulip-trees  stood  before  the  windows. 
The  land  adjoined  the  beautiful  grounds  of  Mr.  George  R.  Rus 
sell,  bis  parishioner  and  friend,  with  whom  arid  whose  family  he 
found  sucb  refreshment  and  delight.  And  next,  going  up  the 
bill,  came  tbe  grounds  of  another  good  and  faithful  friend,  Mr. 
Francis  G.  Shaw.  Mr.  Parker  had  a  right  of  way  over  the 
pleasantly  settled  hill-side.  The  hedges  defined,  but  did  not 
divide  the  respective  places  of  his  friends.  When  jaded  with 
the  old  folios,  he  never  failed  to  find  some  one  at  his  garden 
limit,  in  whose  attachment  his  beart  recovered  strength  and  joy. 
It  was  a  gentle  life,  witb  pure  friendship  to  lighten  labour  and 
to  lift  tbe  heavy  moods  wbich  sometimes  came  sweeping  across 
the  sky. 

The  Russells  used  to  have  famous  visitors,  those  bright,  fair 
girls,  with  literary  and  philosophic  rages,  who  were  just  bloom 
ing  into  transcendentalism,  but  better  yet,  into  womanhood. 
They  used  to  hold  "  Olympicks,"  over  which  Theodore  jovially 
presided.  Sometimes  the  celestial  council  met  in  a  barn,  where 
tbe  fresh,  fragrant  bay,  wbich  he  had  just  belped  toss  and 
gather,  served  for  the  divan.  Here  Gunderode,  Bettini,  and 
Gothe,  the  "Latest  form  of  Infidelity/'  Fourier,  Emerson's 
last  lecture,  and  all  kosmic  questions,  were  discussed.  The  poetry 
in  the  Dial*  was  somewhat  lightly  treated,  and  tbe  Orphic  say 
ings  duly  venerated.  It  is  suspected  that  verses,  which  never 

*  The  first  number  of  the  Dial  appeared  in  July,  1840. 


100  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

got  so  far  as  the  "  twi-light "  Dial  on  the  way  to  the  light, 
were  read  to  the  blonde  council,  while  the  new  hay  contested 
for  freshness  and  pabular  availability. 

He  had  many  a  "  long  chaffer  with  the  fine  ladies  "  in  the 
next  house. 

TO   W.    SILSBEE. 

July  13,  1837. 

You  will  like  to  know  a  little  of  my  matters,  no  doubt.  Well, 
cleverly  am  I  settled.  Our  neighbours  are  pleasant.  About  fifty  to 
sixty  families  in  the  parish — a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  wor 
shippers.  Sunday-school  teachers'  meeting  at  the  house  of  the  pastor 
once  a  fortnight,  wife's  class  at  the  Sunday-school,  pastoral  visits 
made,  schools  attended,  calls  received,  baptisms,  funerals.  Such  are 
my  out-of-door  matters.  "Within  I  have  plenty  of  pleasant  employ 
ment  ;  De  Wette  done,  almost ;  reading  Jacobi  and  old  Henry  More. 
The  life  of  Apollonius  Tyaneus  has  afforded  me  no  little  pleasure  of 
late.  I  have  read  Bulwer's  "Athens;"  a  good  book,  but  with  mis 
takes,  methinks.  I  am  studying  ethics,  such  as  De  Wette  (a  pretty 
good  book),  Fichte,  Coleridge,  and  Descartes.  Spinoza  I  shall  take 
soon  as  I  get  my  copy.  I  have  a  new  work  of  Ancillon.  All  his 
melanges  have  been  republished,  and  two  more  volumes  added,  making 
a  fine  work.  I  borrowed  Gresenius'  "  Lectures  on  the  Old  Testament  " 
of  Cunningham ;  they  are  manusoripts,  but  will  be  a  treasure,  I  doubt 
not.  I  have  been  reading  Ovid,  whom  I  have  in  a  capital  edition,  ten 
volumes  octavo.  Seneca  (and  I  own  him  in  ten,  octavo)  I  shall  read 
with  the  other  moral  writers.  The  "  Iliad  "  is  a  part  of  almost  every 
day's  reading.  I  have  engaged  to  translate  Ammon's  "  Eortbildung 
des  Christenthums,"  four  volumes,  octavo,  in  the  course  of  time.  So 
you  see  I  have  enough  to  keep  an  idle  man  busy. 

We  have  a  very  pleasant  house,  garden,  "  men  servants  and  maidens," 
a  cow,  horse,  and  pig  !  I'm  as  practical  as  Stebbins ;  buy  and  sell,  dig, 
lend  and  borrow.  "  To  this  complexion  must  we  come  at  last." 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Sept.  22. 

Touching  things  carnal,  I  assure  you  I  am  more  disturbed  than  I 
had  ever  anticipated.  This  is  between  you  and  me.  Men  of  the 
actital,  and  their  name  is  legion,  have  a  very  cheap  sort  of  logic, 
amounting  to  this — "My  way  is  perfectly  right:"  this  is  the  first 
axiom,  an  undisputed  truth,  self-evident.  Then  cometh  the  second, 
viz.,  "  All  important  things  are  comprised  in  the  actual,  which  alone 
should  engross  our  attention."  This  is  the  theory  of  these  worthies. 
Now  for  the  practice.  They  see  other  men  doing  different  from  them 
selves,  so  they  condemn  them  under  the  first  axiom.  They  find  them 
thinking  of  other  matters  than  potatoes  and  turnips  and  railroads, 
specie-currency  and  the  manners  of  their  next  neighbour,  to  wit, 
thinking  of  G-od,  of  duty,  nature,  destiny,  cause,  consequence,  the 
right,  the  beautiful,  the  good,  and  so  they  condemn  these  under  axiom 
the  second. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  101 

Then  yearn  their  bowels  of  tender  mercy,  and  they  attempt  to  reform 
the  thinkers,  that  is,  to  make  their  talk  of  turnips,  &c.,  and,  failing 
herein,  they  beset  me.  till  flesh  and  blood  cry  out,  like  that  of  Abel, 
for  vengeance.  So  goes  it.  I  feel  much  of  this  harassing. 

Yet,  this  apart,  I  am  very  pleasantly  situated ;  the  people  good, 
quiet,  sober, -church-going;  capital  listeners,  none  better;  so  much  so, 
that  I  tell  my  friends  I  think  my  parishioners  are  as  much  blessed  in 
preaching  as  those  of  even  Dr.  Channing;  for  what  is  wanted  in 
preaching  they  make  up  in  listening,  whereas  the  Doctor's  people 
depend  altogether  upon  him 

I  believe,  brother  William,  that  no  good  word  is  ever  spoken  in  vain. 
I  may  not  see  it  grow,  but  what  then  ?  As  Kepler  said,  if  God  could 
wait  four  thousand  years  for  some  one  to  see  his  laws,  I  may  wait 
one  hundred  for  men  to  understand  my  sayings.  I  preach  abundant 
heresies,  and  they  all  go  down,  for  the  listeners  do  not  know  how 
heretical  they  are.  I  preach  the  worst  of  all  things,  Transcendentalism, 
the  grand  heresy  itself,  none  calling  me  to  account  therefor,  but  men's 
faces  looking  like  fires  new  stirred  thereat. 

Old  studies  go  on,  metaphysics,  theology,  criticism ;  all  that  used  so 
much  to  delight  and  instruct  us  flourishes  and  grows  apace  in  my  new 
situation.  Thoughts  high  as  heaven,  and  profound  as  the  centre  of 
the  earth,  sometimes  visit  me  in  my  loneliness.  Then,  too,  the  smiles 
of  love  cheer  and  encourage  me. 

You  will  come  and  stay  a  week  with  me,  at  the  least.  I  have  a 
prophet's  chamber  all  ready  for  you.  You  must  come  and  stay  at 
least  a  week,  and  as  much  longer  as  you  can  make  it  agreeable  ;  this  I 
shall  depend  upon.  Eemember  how  I  stayed  with  you  at  Salem — how 
much  delighted  I  was.  I  shall  never  forget  the  day  when  we  walked 
over  to  Beverley ;  that  day,  as  to  the  thoughts  revealed  there,  was  one 
of  the  brightest  of  my  life. 

I  have  got  lots  of  new  books — upwards  of  one  hundred  Germans  ! 
Come  and  see.  Some  of  them  are  old  friends,  others  new — ail  sorts  of 
creatures. 

The  polyglott  library  grew  f.  ,t.  So  grew  theologic  misgivings, 
and  a  dull  sense  that  his  great  capacity  of  work  and  of  humanity 
must  have  more  room. 

During  August  he  gets  hold  of  Palsephatus,  "  ne^i  ATTHTTOV  " 
or  "  On  Incredible  Things."  Palsephatus  was  probably  an  Alex 
andrine  Rationalist,  portions  of  whose  book  on  the  treatment  of 
the  Greek  myths  survive,  in  various  editions,  of  which  Fischer's 
is  the  best.  He  attempted  historical  interpretations  of  the  stories  of 
Cadmus,  Lynceus,  Niobe,  &c.,  saying,  for  instance,  that  Lynceus, 
who  saw  through  the  ground,  was  a  man  who  discovered  beds 
and  veins  of  metals ;  that  Pegasus  was  a  clipper-privateer,  and 
Scylla  also  ;  that  the  King  of  Lerna  had  a  fortified  town  called 
Hydra,  which  was  defended  by  fifty  bow-men  :  and  so  on.  He 
was  a  Greek  Paulus,  and  equally  jejune ;  for  he  did  not  care  to  let 


102  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

the  myths  bring'  allegorical  honey  to  his  hive,  but  only  to  extract 
their  sting  of  the  incredible.  Mr.  Parker's  opinion  after  reading 
this,  betrays  a  mind  fast  becoming  decided  in  its  direction. 

How  the  priests  must  have  exclaimed  against  the  "  impious  "  book 
in  the  day  of  its  appearance.  Such  books  do  good.  I  wish  some  wise 
man  would  now  write  a  book  inpi  Anunuv,  or  "  On  Vulgar  Errors,"  and 
show  up  the  absurdity  of  certain  things  commonly  believed,  on  the 
authority  of  old  Jews.  To  be  plain,  I  mean  the  Old  Testament  mira 
cles,  prophecies,  dreams,  miraculous  births,  &c. 

Now  there  needs  but  the  natural  and  quite  logical  generaliza 
tion  which  extends  the  incredible  element  over  the  New  Testa 
ment  also. 

He  reads  Gabler,  Paulus  and  Bauer,  and  the  question  is  first 
presented  in  the  form  of  application  of  the  mythical  system  of 
exposition  to  the  New  Testament :  myths,  not  yet  in  the  sense 
of  Strauss,  but  stories  merely,  as  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  the  star, 
the  angels,  &c.,  invented  by  people  to  give  a  supernatural  origin 
to  a  famous  man.  The  history  of  the  Temptation  is  a  myth  of 
this  description. 

About  this  time  he  wrote  the  two  sermons  upon  the  historical, 
scientific  and  moral  contradictions  of  the  Bible,  which  he  kept 
in  his  desk  more  than  a  year  before  he  dared  to  preach  them, 
taking  advice  of  various  lay  and  clerical  friends,  who  seemed  to 
agree  with  his  doctrine,  but  to  dread  having  it  proclaimed.  In 
a  sermon  which  he  preached  at  West  Roxbury,  on  going  to 
Europe,  he  describes  the  predicament. 

You  will  have  all  the  clergy  about  your  ears.  An  old  friend,  and  a 
clergyman  of  high  reputation  in  the  churches,  asked  me  what  peculiar 
and  specific  thing  I  was  aiming  at.  I  said :  "  To  separate  theology 
from  religion ;  then  to  apply  good  sense  to  theology,  to  separate 
mythology  from  that,  and  so  get  a  theology  which  rested  on  facts  of 
necessity,  facts  of  consciousness,  facts  of  demonstration,  &c."  He  said  : 
"  Then  you  will  not  stay  in  your  pulpit  seven  years ;  no,  nor  three."  I 
answered :  "  Then,  please  God,  I  will  stay  somewhere  else ;  for  this 
thing  I  will  do." 

So,  after  considering  the  matter  for  more  than  thirteen  months  after 
I  had  written,  I  preached  the  sermons.  I  did  not  dare  look  you  in  the 
face  while  I  spoke.  I  clutched  the  cushions  of  the  pulpit,  and  read  with 
a  trembling  heart.  To  my  great  surprise,  I  found  you  were  able  to  bear 
all  that  I  had  to  say. 

I  did  not  wait  thirteen  months  again  before  I  ventured  to  preach  a 
truth  not  preached  before,  or  expose  a  theological  absurdity. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  103 

He  thus  describes,  in  the  same  sermon,  his  conversations  with 
the  two  deacons  of  his  society  : — 

You  did  not  all  accept  my  convictions.  One  of  your  numher  said, 
with  the  candour  and  fairness  which  marks  his  whole  life,  that,  though 
he  thought  very  differently  about  some  things  in  the  Old  Testament, 
and  New  Testament,  too,  yet  he  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  me  refuse 
to  preach  what  I  thought ;  for  it  would  be  almost  as  bad  as  to  preach 
what  I  did  not  think,  and  would  soon  lead  to  that  end. 

Another  said :  All  the  difficulty  lies  in  "  rightly  dividing  the  "Word  of 
Truth  ;"  there  are  things  in  the  Bible,  in  the  New  Testament,  that  I 
am  sorry  to  find  there.  But  there  are  so  many  good  things,  that  we 
all  love  it,  spite  of  the  bad.  Now,  if  you  can  "  rightly  divide  the  Word," 
so  as  to  leave  all  the  truth  on  one  side,  and  all  the  rest  on  the  other, 
then  you  will  do  a  great  service  to  the  Church  and  the  World.  But  it 
is  hard  to  do  this.  I  don't  believe  it  can  be  done  without  violence  to 
the  good  parts.  You  know  what  Isaiah  says — "  As  the  new  wine  is 
found  in  the  cluster,  and  one  saith,  Destroy  it  not,  for  a  blessing  is  in 
it ;"  so  I  say  of  the  Bible,  Destroy  it  not,  for  a  blessing  is  in  it.  But 
still,  if  you  can  get  the  blessing  out  of  the  grape-skin,  that  is  all  we 
want. 

It  was  afterwards  charged  that  he  was  precipitate  in  framing 
and  exposing  his  opinions.  No  opinions  ever  grew  more  delibe 
rately,  and  never  was  there  less  of  light  audacity  in  the  exhibi 
tion  of  opinions  that  had  fallen  out  of  harmony  with  the  pre 
vailing  order. 

At  the  beginning  of  1  838,  he  is  spiritless,  and  filled  with  the 
vague  dissatisfaction  which  creeps  so  often,  like  a  sluggish  earth 
worm,  over  the  hopes  of  many  a  young  clergyman,  who  has  not 
the  excess  of  power  which  tore  up  Mr.  Parker's  ease.  No  routine 
is  so  disheartening,  because  no  other  one  involves  such  high 
thoughts  and  objects,  to  cope  with  which  a  man  is  not  ready  at 
set  days  and  hours.  The  theory  of  parish- visiting  is  noble,  the 
practice  is  sometimes  exceedingly  depressing.  The  act  of  prayer 
is  tender  and  sublime.  To  pray  tenderly  at  eleven  o'clock 
precisely,  every  Sunday  morning,  is  a  preciseness  which  the 
spirit  declines  to  accommodate. 

I  often  ask  myself  what  I  am  doing  with  my  one  talent,  and  can  only 
reply  that  I  deem  myself  well  nigh  wasting  it.  Preaching  to  an 
audience  of  70  or  120  souls,  going  about  and  talking  little  with  old 
women,  giving  good  advice  to.  hypocrites,  and  scattering  here  and  there, 
[  hope,  a  corn-grain  that  will  one  day  germinate  and  bear  fruit.  Oh, 
could  I  be  satisfied  that  I  am  doing  even  this  last !  If  I  deemed  it 
certain  that  any  word  of  mine  would  ever  waken  the  deep  inner  life  of 
another's  soul,  I  should  bless  God  that  I  was  alive  and  speaking.  But 
I  will  trust.  I  am  sometimes  praised  for  my  sermons.  I  wish  men 


104  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

knew  how  cold  those  sleek  speeches  are.     I  would  rather  see  one  man 
practising  one  of  my  sermons  than  hear  all  men  praise  them. 
But  of  this  I  am  satisfied — I  am  not  doing  what  I  ought  to  do. 

And  a  few  days  after,  the  mood  grows  very  heavy,  but  it  is 
not  easy  to  decompose  it  and  declare  its  physical  and  moral 
elements,  or  the  proportion  in  which  they  mingle. 

I  have  lost  many  things.  The  greatest  was  Hope.  Days  there  have 
heen  when  I  saw  nought  else  to  freshen  my  eye,  weary  with  looking 
over  the  dull  waste  of  my  early  life.  Tired  with  labour,  I  have  laid 
down,  my  books  beside  me,  the  lamp  at  summer  midnight  burning  low, 
all  else  silent  in  sleep.  Hope  visited  me ;  she  sat  beside  me,  trimmed 
my  lamp.  In  her  sublime  presence  I  grew  calm,  and  composed  myself 
by  her  majestic  features. 

Here  he  plays  good-humouredly  with  the  tired  mood : — 

TO   W.    SILSBEE. 

November  13,  1837. 

Epistola  tua,  O  Gulielme,  omnium  carissime  mihi,  gratissima  venit, 
instar  rorjs  vespertinse  in  flores  sole  perustos  defluentis.  (Hue  studium 
mei  sanctissimum  accedit  conjux,  in  manu  vilam  scopam  versans,  nubes 
densissimas  pulverum  jactura !  Yae  inihi ! )  Literas  brevissimas,  sic 
dicas,  tibi  scripseram  !  Culpam  hanc  gravem  admitto.  Pacein  tuam 
atque  indulgentiam,  fortasse  baud  meritam,  implore.  Oppressus  dolore, 
fatigatione,  lassitudine  corporis,  multis  cum  malis  quae  TO  cr«p|  in  vita 
haereditatur  in  mediis  hisce  difficultatibus  epistolam  feci. 

Tarn  sicca  epistola  ista,  ut  metui  si  longius  protraheretur  combustione 
spontanea  incenderetur.  Sic  finem  posui  in  metu. 

Bona  Dea  te  faveat,  emens  libros  tarn  vilissimi  pretii.  Emens  enim 
ab  homine  Gruff*  (Latinis  cum  literis  animam  suam  nolo  depingere), 
quum  accedis  Bostoniam,  si  apportabis  tecum  Krummacher,  Twestenque, 
Tenneman  et  Wegscheider,  deponens  illos  apud  Munroe,  multas  gratias 
meritaris  opus  rusticum  (Anglice,  yeoman-service)  mihi  perfungarentur. 

Nunc  pluma — penna  stultissimse  anseris — defatigata,  volitare  Romano 
in  ccelo  abnegat. 

But  there  were  choice  friends  with  whom  he  grew  bright  and 
happy.  Mr.  George  Kipley,  then  settled  over  a  Unitarian 
Society  in  Boston,  was  one  of  the  oldest  of  these.  Mr.  Parker's 
debt  to  him  was  large,  for  counsel  in  all  matters  of  the  intellect, 
for  a  discriminating  judgment  in  books,  for  liberal  friendship  of 
all  kinds.  There  was  strong  sympathy,  indeed  it  may  be  called 
love,  between  them  ;  a  subsequent  theological  divergence  did  not 
impair  it.  If  they  discussed  its  points  at  all,  it  was  done 
genially,  and  with  the  most  perfect  mutual  understanding.  For 
Mr.  Ripley 's  convictions  were  held  by  a  mind  too  scholarly,  and 
a  disposition  too  serene,  to  become  intolerant.  Mr.  Parker  was 


THEODORE   PARKER.  105 

never  tired  of  acknowledging  the  debt  he  owed  to  friends  who 
were  a  few  years  his  seniors  ;  and  Mr.  Ripley's  name  was  among 
the  highest  on  this  roll  of  gratitude. 

There  was  at  that  time  in  Boston,  under  the  leadership  of  Dr. 
Channing,  a  Society  of  Friends  of  Progress.  They  met  for  a 
free  and-  bold  discussion  of  all  current  subjects  of  theology  and 
social  life.  Here  Mr.  Parker  found  the  charm  of  good  companion 
ship,  for  there  came  to  those  meetings,  besides  Dr.  Channing, 
Jonathan  Phillips,  a  dear  parishioner  of  the  Doctor's,  and  a  man 
of  acute  and  liberal  mind, — occasionally  Wendell  Phillips,  then  a 
young  lawyer,  of  the  Suffolk  bar ;  Mr.  Hedge,  Mr.  Ripley,  Mr. 
Alcott  and  Dr.  Follen. 

To  judge  from  some  notes  of  these  meetings  which  are  pre 
served,  Mr.  Parker  stood  in  little  awe  of  the  magnates.  His 
mind  willingly  went  down  into  the  lists  with  them  for  a  good- 
natured  encounter.  Mr.  Emerson's  views  upon  the  personality 
of  God  were  for  discussion  one  evening,  suggested  by  a  late 
lecture  of  his  (in  the  winter  of  1  837-38.).  He  was  accused  of 
maintaining  that  God  was  only  an  idea,  formed  in  the  mind  of 
the  individual,  projected  into  ideas  of  Omnipresence,  &c.  Another 
charge  was,  that  of  Pantheism,  which  in  those  days  was  popu 
larly  understood  to  be  the  dread  belief  of  a  few  suspected  men, 
who  were  watched  as  jealously  as  Jews  and  witches  ever  were. 
In  the  last  century  they  would  have  been  accused  of  practising 
some  diabolical  ritual.  Mr.  Parker  made  a  very  sensible  state 
ment  of  what  he  considered  the  drift  of  Mr.  Emerson's  thought 
to  be,  and  then  nicely  laid  open  the  question  of  the  Divine 
Personality. 

"What  do  we  mean  by  the  term  ?  Personality  cannot  exist  without 
will.  Suffer  all  my  faculties  to  remain  as  they  are,  hut  annihilate  the 
will ;  I  am  no  longer  a  person,  an  individual.  I  cannot  say  I — a  faggot 
of  powers  has  taken  the  place  of  I.  There  are  attributes,  but  no  sub 
stance  to  which  they  belong.  How,  then,  can  I  conceive  of  God  with 
out  personality  ?  But  is  will  the  only  essential  of  personality  ?  The 
question  is  difficult.  I  conceive  of  God  as  a  Being  of  infinite  powers, 
directed  by  infinite  love — as  a  Being  easy  of  access,  full  of  tenderness, 
whose  character  is  summed  up  in  one  word — Father !  Now,  the  idea 
of  God's  will  unites  all  these  attributes  into  a  being.  Here,  then,  are 
the  attributes  of  God  united  with  a  substance — the  will.  What  is  the 
essence  of  God  ?  I  know  not  what  is  the  essence  of  myself.  I  cannot  tell. 
The  idea  of  God  is  no  more  mysterious  than  that  of  self ;  that  of  the 
Divine  Personality  is  as  clear  as  that  of  human  personality.  Men  have 
always  perplexed  themselves  in  meditating  upon  this  subject.  And  they 


106  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

have  come  to  this  conclusion,  "  He  is  past  finding  out."  This  is 
variously  expressed  by  the  thinkers  of  different  ages  and  countries. 
"  Search  me  after  the  essence  of  God  and  His  laws,"  says  the  old  Veda, 
(rod  is  "  unrevealed  light,"  "  the  ineffable,"  "incomprehensible,"  "  the 
primal  Being,"  say  the  Gnostics.  "  The  most  real  of  all  beings,"  says 
Plato ;  "  Himself  without  being."  So  the  mystic  can  only  say,  "  I  am  " 
— "  He  is." 

Mr.  A.  talks  of  the  progress  of  God :  the  Almighty  going  forward  to 
His  own  infinity — progressively  unfolding  Himself!  An  idea  to  me 
revolting,  &c. 

Another  friend,  whom  he  met  more  seldom,  but  always  with 
delight  and  profit,  was  William  Henry  Channing,  the  successor 
of  Mr.  Martineau  in  Liverpool,  and  now  minister  of  the  Uni 
tarian  Society  at  Washington,  D.C. 

July  13. 

Went  to  Boston  with  Mr.  Ellis,  and  at  my  return  found  Wm.  Chan 
ning  at  home — to  my  great  delight.  The  subjects  of  our  conversation 
were  sundry  important  questions  on  biblical  theology,  embracing  most 
of  the  works  of  the  recent  German  theologians ;  for  there  are  no  others 
at  this  day.  We  spoke  of  individuality  (here  follows  a  sketch  of  Mr. 
P.'s  idea  of  two  individualities,  the  phenomenal  and  the  real ;  the  first 
being  a  man's  peculiarities,  which  separate  him  from  other  men ;  the 
second  being  the  essential  human  truths  and  feelings,  which  bring  all 
men  together).  I  am  exceedingly  delighted  with  Mr.  C.  He  seems 
true — a  little  diseased  in  the  region  of  consciousness,  but  otherwise  of 
most  remarkable  beauty  of  character ;  full  of  good  tendencies,  of  noblest 
aspirations  ;  an  eye  to  see  the  evils  of  society,  a  heart  to  feel  them ;  a 
soul  to  hope  better  things,  a  willingness  to  endure  all  self-denial  to 
accomplish  the  end  whereto  he  is  sent ;  not  covered  by  thickest  wrap 
pages,  which  rather  obscure  his  worthy  uncle,  whom  I  venerate  perhaps 
too  much. 

We  spent  all  the  time  in  conversation  (to  me)  most  profitable. 

Conversations  between  ardent  and  truth-seeking  friends  were 
not  confined  to  the  theological  points  which  agitated  the  denomi 
nation.  The  social  problem  attracted  the  same  minds  who  sought 
a  better  authority  for  truth  than  miracles  could  give,  in  a  spiritual 
perception  of  it  which  all  mankind  might  share.  A  mutualism 
to  secure  culture  and  material  welfare  was  consistently  desired 
by  those  who  believed  in  a  community  of  the  sources  of  moral 
and  spiritual  welfare.  The  social  evils  which  result  from  the 
struggles  of  competitive  labour  seemed  to  outweigh  all  its  bene 
fits.  Modern  civilization  was  thought  to  be  the  culmination  of 
isolated  selfishness,  madly  struggling  from  bread  to  luxury  and 
refined  delights,  which  the  strongest  and  least  scrupulous  only 
could  acquire.  Prisons  and  punishments  were  the  defences  of 


THEODORE   PARKER.  107 

this  artificial  system,  to  repress  instincts  that  were  moral  till  they 
became  illegal.  Hospitals  and  benevolent  institutions  were  also 
mere  defences  to  absorb  as  much  misery  as  possible  ere  it  became 
malicious,  to  get  the  social  gangrene  reduced  to  limits.  The  pro 
vidential  impulses  of  the  human  being  were  forced  to  act  in  sub 
versive  ways  and  directions,  when  they  might  all  be  harmonized 
by  their  own  inherent  laws,  and  the  blessing  of  mutualism  suc 
ceed  to  the  bane  of  antagonism.  Each  man  ought  to  be  the 
guarantee  to  all  men  against  disorder  ;  the  carefully  adjusted 
elements  of  a  selfishness  which  threatens  continually  to  blow  the 
social  fabric  to  atoms,  would  become  not  only  innoxious  but 
salutary  in  its  proper  combination  ;  and  a  new  civilization  might 
arise  in  fair  proportion  from  the  serial  development  and  move 
ment  of  all  possible  human  tendencies.  Then  all  men  and  women 
might  labour  and  be  happy ;  all  might  earn  with  a  minimum  of 
toil  a  competence  of  culture.  Property  would  be  the  ally  of  the 
whole  instead  of  the  oppressor  of  the  many  ;  and  crimes  would 
disappear,  because  the  instincts  would  no  longer  have  motives  to 
be  criminal. 

These  opinions,  combined  with  sharp  and  legitimate  criticism 
of  the  evils  of  civilization  and  the  absurdities  of  modern  society, 
were  presented  in  a  scientific  form,  by  Charles  Fourier,  and  urged 
with  great  enthusiasm  by  his  advocates  in  this  country,  who  gene 
rally  had  the  sense  to  let  alone  some  of  his  conclusions  respecting 
marriage  and  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes.  Pure-minded  men 
were  fascinated  by  the  idea  that  people  could  be  shown  and 
taught  to  work  in  harmony,  to  reduce  drudgery  and  domestic 
annoyances  by  a  skilful  division  of  labour,  to  develope  beauty  as 
well  as  use,  and  to  save  precious  time  for  the  soul. 

Mr.  Ripley  soon  left  a  profession  in  which  he  seemed  to  be 
only  recommending  truths,  to  make  the  experiment  of  organizing 
the  same  truths  into  practical  forms  of  use,  into  ideal  forms  of 
beauty.  He  would  show  the  possibility  of  living  in  a  system 
that  should  not  hide  its  roots  in  misery  and  crime.  The  esta 
blishment  at  Brook  Farm  was  not  far  from  Mr.  Parker's ;  and 
Mr.  Channing  sometimes  came  there,  the  purest,  most  enthu 
siastic,  most  religious  of  all  the  speakers  at  those  fine  reunions, 
where  the  problem  was  discussed. 

But  Mr.  Parker  accepted  the  criticisms  upon  society,  and 
waxed  no  less  indignant  than  the  rest,  nor  was  he  less  warmed 
with  the  hope  of  a  fairer  future  for  mankind,  without  ever 


108  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

acceding  to  the  schemes  of  Fourier,  Considerant,  or  their 
American  advocates.  When  afterwards  the  principle  of  association 
was  tried  at  Brook  Farm,  he  was  occasionally  rather  sly  over 
some  of  the  details,  and  had  a  humorous  eye  for  the  little 
weaknesses  of  the  recruits.  The  motive  called  forth  his  un 
bounded  respect ;  but  he  never  could  be  made  to  see  the  avail 
ability  of  any  of  the  plans. 

E.  dislikes  the  customs  of  property ;  a  father  transmitting  it  to 
his  son.  But  I  see  no  way  of  avoiding  the  evil.  The  sin  lies  deeper 
than  the  transmission  of  property  from  getter  to  enjoyer.  It  lies  in 
the  love  of  low  things,  and  in  the  idea  that  work  degrades.  We  must  cor 
rect  this  notion,  and  then  all  is  well.  Let  men  see  there  are  better 
things  than  gold  can  buy;  that  labour,  properly  pursued,  gives  a  compe 
tence  and  leisure  for  cultivation  of  the  man,  and  that  labour  elevates 
man,  and  the  trouble  is  all  over.  How  the  world  ever  came  into  such 
a  sad  state  it  is  difficult  to  conjecture. 

Still  a  Phalanx  seems  no  stranger  to  me  than  a  city  might  have 
seemed  to  some  old  patriarch.  Tet  I  suspect  there  has  never  been  a 
time  since  the  first  settlement  of  this  country,  when  morals  or  religion 
were  really  at  a  higher  flood.  I  complain  loud  as  others  of  the  lowness  of 
the  common  actual,  and  also  of  the  common  ideal ;  but  I  will  not  look 
back  on  any  one  age,  and  say  we  are  worse  than  our  fathers,  but  forward 
to  an  ideal,  and  say  we  are  worse  than  that. 

There  are  traces  of  his  interviews  with  Dr.  Channing,  whom 
he  began  reverently  to  seek  while  teaching  in  Watertown  ;  but 
no  notes  of  this  intercourse  appear  till  later,  when  he  had 
opinions  of  his  own  and  felt  encouraged  to  sustain  them. 

Went  to  see  Dr.  Channing  last  Thursday.  I  have  not  been  this 
winter  so  often  as  usual  (1838-39),  though  I  delight  to  go  as  well  as 
ever.  We  spoke  of  many  things.  The  Doctor  thinks  the  morality  of 
Chr:st?ority  as  great  an  advance  upon  all  previous  systems  as  the  reli 
gion  itself.  Praised  my  article  in  the  Examiner*  but  thought  I  had 
not  quite  done  justice  to  Christianity  in  that  respect.  I  should  be 
sorry  if  it  were  true. 

Afterwards  we  were  speaking  of  educating  the  conscience,  a  doctrine 
which  I  rather  ridiculed.  But  the  Doctor  said  it  must  be  educated, 
like  the  understanding.  But  upon  being  asked  if  more  was  needed  than 
this,  that  the  understanding  should  be  rendered  capable  of  presenting 
the  case  distinctly  to  conscience,  he  seemed  to  favour  the  hypothesis.  I 
asked  him  if  conscience  were  not  an  infallille  guide.  He  seems  to 
doubt  it,  but  is  going  to  think  of  the  question.  To  me  it  seems  that 
conscience  will  always  decide  right,  if  the  case  is  fairly  put,  and  old 
habits  have  not  obscured  its  vision.  This  he  seemed  inclined  to  believe, 
yet  hesitated  to  assent.  He  said  conscience  was  like  the  eye,  which 
might  be  dim,  or  might  see  wrong.  But  in  this  case  it  is  not  the  eye 

*  An  article  for  January,  1839,  reviewing  Ackermann's  "Das  Christliche  in  Plato.*' 


THEODORE   PARKER.  109 

which  sees,  but  the  soul  which  looks  out  at  the  eye ;  now  the  organ 
may  be  detective,  and  so  misrepresent.  But  conscience,  when  the  facts 
are  fairly  before  it,  acts  directly  and  not  mediately,  and  therefore  it  is  not 
liable  to  the  same  mistakes  with  the  eye. 

He  seemed  inclined  to  admit  this,  yet  denied  that  we  needed  any 
infallible  guide,  and  said  the  belief  in  such  a  want  had  led  to  the  theory 
that  the  Scripture  was  inspired  word  for  word.  But  Scripture  was  not 
an  infallible  guide,  and  if  it  were,  it  would  do  us  no  good,  for  we  could 
not  infallibly  understand  it. 

He  thought  a  man  late  in  his  life  (in  a  case  I  put),  who  had  not 
hitherto  consulted  his  conscience,  would,  coming  to  that  adviser,  make 
great  mistakes,  and  therefore  be  punished  for  his  past  sin  of  neglect. 
IJpon  the  whole,  he  believed  if  a  man  should  begin  early  to  ask  for  the 
right,  with  sincere  wish  to  find  it,  he  never  would  get  far  out  of  the  way. 
And  even  if  he  did,  he  was  of  course  justifiable  in  the  Court  of  Heaven. 

Conscience  is  the  last  appeal.  Never  go  beyond  that ;  even  if  it  says 
wrong,  the  man  is  degraded  who  disobeys  it.  But  if  a  man's  conscience 
tells  him  something  different  from  other  men's,  he  is  not  to  forego  it, 
but  to  recast  its  plans,  examine  the  subject  anew,  but  at  last  adhere  to 
conscience. 

19  April. — Went  to  see  Dr.  Channing.  Spoke  about  Strauss.  He 
observed  very  archly  he  should  not  be  very  sorry  if  some  of  Kneeland's 
followers  would  do  it  into  English.  He  would  not  advise  me  to  do  it. 

He  said  Christianity  could  not  be  separated  from  Christ!  Jesus  had 
a  miraculous  character,  different  in  kind  from  ours.  To  him  was  made  a 
miraculous  revelation,  different  in  kind  from  that  made  to  other  men, 
excepting  the  old  prophets  and  apostles. 

Believes  the  Bible  miracles,  not  those  of  other  people.  Thinks  that 
Paul  did  appeal  to  the  Christian  miracles — £yva^e»?  is  equivalent  to 
"miracles." 

May  2. — Saw  Dr.  Channing.  Borrowed  Origen  of  him.  He  is  pleased 
with  Luther's  opinion  on  the  Sabbath ;  says  men  ought  to  be  told  of 
these  things.  Why  does  he  not  tell  them  ?  He  says  Luther  was  a 
coarse  man  in  the  flesh.  I  compared  him  to  Paul.  Dr.  Channing 
thinks  the  comparison  favours  the  latter.  So  it  does.  Luther  was 
melancholy  in  his  latter  years,  because  the  Reformation  had  slipped  out 
of  his  hands.  He  found  the  world  ripe  for  his  work  :  so  it  went  easy. 

July.— If  Dr.  Channing  could  be  ground  over  again,  and  come  out  a 
young  man  of  five-and-twenty,  give  all  the  results  of  his  reading,  expe 
rience,  and  life,  all  the  insight,  power,  eloquence,  Christianity  he  now 
possesses, — but  let  him  hold  the  same  religious,  philosophical,  political, 
and  social  opinions  as  now,  and  preach  on  them  as  he  does,  and  let  him, 
with  such  tracts  as  his  "  Letter  on  Slavery,"  &c.,  be  all  unknown  to 
fame,  he  could  not  find  a  place  for  the  sole  of  his  foot  in  Boston,  though 
half-a-dozen  pulpits  were  vacant — not  he." 

TO   W.    SILSBEE. 

August  10,  1838. 

I  must  now  say  a  few  words  of  myself.  I  have  never  had  a 
summer  of  more  delightful  study  than  the  present,  never  found 
more  satisfaction  in  theological  and  philosophical  pursuits.  I  have 


110  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

solved  many  questions  which  have  long  perplexed  and  troubled 
me,  and  have  grown  in  some  small  measure  calmer  than  of  old 
time.  Tranquillity,  you  know,  is  one  of  my  attainable,  but  unat- 
tained  virtues.  Some  of  my  inquiries  have  been  historical,  others 
critical,  but  philosophy  has  given  me  most  delight  this  season.  I  do 
not  say  that  the  greatest  questions  are  yet  solved,  or  will  ever  be. 
They  stand  now  like  fire-breathing  dragons  in  my  path  ;  I  cannot  drive 
them  away.  But  though  they  often  heat,  they  never  bite  me.  Mr. 
H.  says,  in  expressing  his  despair  of  philosophy,  it  is  better  to  give  it 
all  up  and  study  the  facts  of  nature — with  Kirby  and  Spence,  and 
White  of  Selborne  !  Who  can  do  it  if  he  would  ?  The  Sphinx  will 
have  an  answer  or  you  die.  You  must  read  the  riddle.  Love  of 
philosophy  may  be  "  the  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds,"  but  I  will 
cling  to  it  still. 

You  ask  me  what  effect  my  speculations  have  on  my  practice.  You 
will  acquit  me  of  boasting  when  I  say,  the  most  delightful — better 
than  I  could  hope.  My  preaching  is  weak  enough,  you  know,  but  it 
is  made  ten  times  the  more  spiritual  and  strong  by  my  views  of  nature, 
God,  Christ,  man  and  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  In  my  religious  con- 
versation  I  tell  men  religion  is  as  necessary  as  bread  to  the  body, 
light  to  the  eye,  thought  to  the  mind.  I  ask  them  to  look  into  their 
hearts  and  see  if  it  is  not  so.  They  say  I  tell  them  the  doctrines  of 
common  sense,  and  it  is  true.  Questions  are  often  asked  on  the 
heretical  points.  I  tell  men  that  Moses  and  the  writers  of  the 
Old  Testament  had  low  views  of  God,  but  the  best  that  men 
could  have  in  those  times.  They  understand  it  and  believe  the 
New  Testament  account  of  God.  In  regard  to  Christ,  they  see  a 
beauty  in  his  character  when  they  look  upon  him  as  a  man,  who  had 
wants  like  theirs,  trial,  temptation,  joys  and  sorrows  like  their  own,  yet 
stood  higher  than  the  tempter,  overcome  in  every  trial.  They  see  the 
same  elements  in  themselves. 

I  dwell  mainly  on  a  few  great  points,  viz.,  the  nobleness  of  man's 
nature,  the  lofty  ideal  he  should  set  before  him,  the  degradation  of 
men  at  this  time,  their  low  aims  and  worthless  pleasures ;  on  the 
necessity  of  being  true  to  their  convictions,  whatever  they  may  be, 
with  the  certainty  that  if  they  do  this,  they  have  the  whole  omnipo 
tence  of  God  working  for  them,  as  the  artist  brings  the  whole  power 
of  the  river  to  turn  his  wheel. 

Also  I  dwell  on  the  character  and  providence  of  God,  and  the  exact 
ness  and  beauty  of  his  laws,  natural,  moral,  and  religious.  My  con 
fidence  in  the  Bible  is  increased.  It  is  not  a  sealed  book,  but  an  open 
one.  I  consider  there  are  three  witnesses  of  God  in  creation.  1. 
Works  of  nature :  these  do  not  perfectly  reveal  Him,  for  we  cannot 
now  understand  all  its  contradictions.  2.  The  words  of  our  fellow- 
men  :  this  confirms  all  the  wisdom  of  all  the  past ;  it  includes  the 
Sacred  Scriptures.  Parts  of  it  differ  vastly  in  degree  from  other 
writings,  but  not  in  kind.  3.  The  infinite  sentiments  of  each  indi 
vidual  soul.  Now,  I  lay  stress  on  the  first,  but  more  on  the  second, 
and  still  more  on  the  third  ;  for  a  man  may  have  just  as  bright  revela 
tions  in  his  own  heart  as  Moses,  or  David,  or  Paul ;  I  might  say,  as 
Jesus,  but  I  do  not  think  any  man  ever  has  had  such  a  perfect  God- 
consciousness  as  he. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  Ill 

Men  no  more  understand  his  words  than  they  can  do  his  miracles. 
"  Be  perfect  as  God,"  do  they  know  what  this  means  ?  No,  no.  My 
confidence  in  the  Gospel  is  immeasurably  increased.  I  see  it  haa 
meaning  in  its  plainest  h'gures.  "  He  that  is  greatest  among  you  shall 
be  your  servant  " — what  meaning  !  It  will  be  understood  a  thousand 
years  hence,  not  before.  But  I  see  the  Gospel  is  human,  but  almost 
infinitely  above  present  humanity. 

I  feel  bound  to  communicate  my  views  just  so  fast  and  so  far  as 
men  can  understand  them, — no  farther.  If  they  do  not  understand 
them  when  I  propound  them,  the  fault,  I  think,  is  mine  and  not  theirs. 
I  often  find  it  difficult  to  make  myself  understood. 

We  will  have  a  long  talk  upon  these  points,  for  you  know  the  pen 
is  dull  and  cold,  while  the  tongue  is  nearer  the  heart.  My  heart  and 
my  hand  go  together  like  two  turtle-doves,  who  perch  on  the  same 
bough,  and  eat  of  the  same  food,  and  drop  water  in  one  another's 
beaks.  My  religion  warms  my  philosophy,  and  my  philosophy  gives 
strength  to  my  religion.  You  know  I  do  not  boast  in  all  this. 

TO   W.    SILSBEE. 

Dec.  9,  1837. 

I  am  reading  the  Pha3drus.  It  was  the  first  of  Plato's  own  I 
ever  read.  Several  years  since  strolling  (idly  perhaps)  about  the 
library,  I  took  down  the  volume  which  contained  the  Pha3drus.  I 
read  it  in  a  night.  I  was  appalled  by  the  grandeur  of  the  thought,  the 
beauty  of  the  style.  The  noon  of  night  passed  before  I  could  lay  it 
down,  and  then  sleep  came  not,  for  the  procession  of  the  gods, 
and  the  ideal  flight  of  the  soul,  upborne  on  celestial  wings  not  yet 
defiled  by  earthly  stain,  gazing  upon  the  lofty  countenance  of  Truth, — 
all  this  floated  in  my  mind  and  kept  off  the  drowsy  god.  I  shall  never 
forget  that  event  in  my  life.  How  I  read,  and  re-read,  and  read  again, 
the  more  delighted  at  each  perusal.  Subsequently  I  forgot  the  name 
of  the  book,  and  have  sought  everywhere  else  in  the  mighty  master  for 
the  passage  so  exciting  to  me,  but  all  in  vain  till  now.  I  commence 
with  this,  and  all  the  old  ideas  re-awake  in  my  soul. 

Some  notes  of  reading  and  conversation  belong  to  this 
period. 

BOPP'S,  YERGLEICHENDE  GUAMMATIK. — I  can  read  almost  any  book 
that  promises  instruction.  This  doubtless  contains  stores  of  facts 
relating  to  comparative  philology ;  but  I  can't  read  the  book.  It  is 
awfully  written ;  none  but  a  German  could  write  such  a  book,  none 
but  a  German  could  read  it ;  yet  it  is  doubtless  valuable. 

The  Germans,  as  Mr.  Norton  says,  are  "  too  raw  to  write  books." 
Certainly  they  have  had  but  few  good  models  of  writing  in  Germany ; 
but  they  have  not  much  improved  those  they  have.  The  book  belongs 
to  the  same  class  with  Lobeck's  "  Aglaophamus."  It  is  not  a  book,  but 
a  collection  of  valuable  materials  which  might  be  put  into  a  book.  It 
seems  necessary  to  have  a  board  of  attorneys  in  Germany  to  write  the 
books  which  learned  men  are  full  of.  Then  a  scholar  like  Bopp  should 
hie  to  his  glib  attorney,  with  all  his  facts  and  philosophy  in  his  satchel ; 
should  state  its  case  to  him,  and  let  Mr.  Attorney  lay  the  matter  before 


112  LIFE   AND    COKRESPONDENCE   OP 

the  public  in  the  most  perspicuous  and  forcible  manner  possible. 
Authors  might  then  express  themselves ;  the  public  could  understand 
them. 

KARCHER'S  ANALECTA. — Eichhorn's  "  Praefamen,"  as  he  calls  it,  con 
tains  a  clever  defence  of  the  Masoretic  text,  as  he  calls  it.  The  book 
contains  the  results  of  an  immense  reading  of  books  that  are  not 
valuable,  at  least,  not  valuable  to  me.  Karcher  read  all  the  books 
mentioned  in  Wolfs  "  Bibliotheca  Hebraica,"  and  added  what  was 
omitted  by  Wolf,  if  it  seemed  important.  Of  course  he  tells  you  that 
Eabbi  Mier  Hallodami  Ben  Job  Ben  .  .  Adam,  besides  the  998 
ascribed  to  him  by  Wolf,  wrote  another  called  "The  Fool's  Way 
Wiser,"  and  that  one  of  the  998  cited  by  Wolf  is  mentioned  as  the 
"  Book  of  Fools,"  and  it  is  "  The  Book  of  Stupid  Men,"  and  the  like. 
Doubtless  the  work  is  very  valuable  to  those  whom  it  concerns,  but 
not  to  me. 

LIFE  or  SWEDENBORG.* — It  seems  written  with  the  most  honest 
intentions,  but  is  not  satisfactory  to  me,  farther  than  this,  it  shows  he 
was  a  very  remarkable  man.  As  to  his  wonderful  deeds,  I  have  no 
antecedent  objection  to  them,  though  the  evidence  is  not  always  suffi 
cient  to  establish  their  actuality.  If  actual  they  are  of  no  value  to 
my  mind  as  proof  of  spiritual  inspiration.  I  cannot  believe  in  his 
interpretations  of  the  Scriptures,  if  he  were  to  move  mountains. 

There  is  a  little  unfairness  in  giving  part  of  the  testimony  of  Kant, 
without  giving  the  part  against  the  credibility  of  Swedenborg. 

CONVERSATION  WITH  PROF.  STUART. — He  says  it  is  Emerson's 
doctrine,  that  man  has  in  him  all  he  attributes  to  the  Godhead ;  that 
he  has  elements  of  religion  in  him ;  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  find  it.  This 
is  certainly  giving  up  the  Bible.  Why  ?  Ecce  argumentum  :  God  gave 
man  the  Bible.  Now  this  gift  supposes  it  was  God's  opinion  man 
needed  it,  and  could  not  get  religion  or  knowledge  of  God  without  it. 
Acting  on  this  supposition,  he  made  revelations  of  Himself,  &c. 

The  above  is  beautiful  reasoning,  and  sounds  much  like  the  follow 
ing  :•> — God  gives  oxen  grass ;  therefore  He  supposes  they  need  it ; 
therefore  He  thinks  they  would  never  have  been  hungry  had  He  not 
given  them  grass.  To  say  an  ox  would  be  hungry  if  there  were  no 
grass,  is  as  bad  as  to  say  man  would  have  religious  wants  if  there  were 
no  Bible  or  miraculous  revelation  of  God.  Truly  Jonathan  Edwards 
was  wiser  than  this.  See  his  sermon  on  "  Spiritual  Light  Every 
where." 

But  I  am  surprised  at  the  general  liberality  of  Moses  Stuart.  He 
detests  littleness,  and  would  rather  give  up  revelation  than  reason. 
He  has  no  notion  of  going  back  to  the  dark  ages,  as  the  English 
theologues  have,  with  whom  he  has  no  patience,  and  says  they  belong 
to  the  fourteenth  century. 

CONVERSATION  WITH  PROF.  NORTON. — Keturned  to  Cambridge  and 
called  on  Mr.  Norton  ;  left  with  him  Mr.  Stuart's  note.  I  found  Mr. 
Norton  in  the  midst  of  books,  all  neatly  arranged  about  him.  His 
MSS.  looked  as  neat  as  a  lady's  album ;  three  pretty  portfolios  con- 

*  No  name  of  author.  Perhaps  it  was  the  Life  prepared  by  Nathaniel  Hobart.  That 
contains  the  letter  of  Kant  upon  the  alleged  intercourse  of  Swedenborg  with  the  spiritual 
world. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  113 

tained  various  papers.  He  proceeded  to  speak  about  a  work  lent  to 
me  when  at  Cambridge — Matter's  work  on  the  Gnostics.  He  pro- 
nouncecLit  a,  romance  founded  on  Gnosticism,  and  not  a  "  critical 
history.  He  says  M.  Matter  is  wrong  in  his  facts,  inferences,  and 
conclusions ;  is  a  man  of  considerable  talent,  but  is  hasty,  and  there 
fore  inaccurate  and  loose  in  his  statements.  He  gave  me  some 
instances. 

I  inquired  if  he  had  ever  seen  Bauer  on  the  Gnostics — he  had  not ; 
but  he  expressed  some  little  dislike  of  the  plan  when  told  that  Bauer 
found  Gnosticism  in  Schleiermacher,  Schelling,  and  Hegel.  I  told  him 
Bauer  found  no  essence  of  Gnosticism,  and  did  not  tell  what  was  the  one 
doctrine  which  showed  itself  in  all  sects,  and  affirmed  that  there  was  • 
no  such  common  doctrine.  Mr.  Norton  differed  on  that  head  ;  he  said 
the  essence  of  Gnosticism  consisted  in  two  things : — I.  A  denial  that 
Jehovah  of  the  Old  Testament  was  the  Supreme  God.  II.  An  affir 
mation  that  the  world  was  made  by  an  inferior  being  (Demiurgos). 
To  these  he  added  a  third  tenet,  scarcely  distinctive,  that  Matter  has 
an  evil  influence  on  Mind. 

In  these,  he  says,  all  the  Gnostics  agreed ;  he  does  not  count  the 
Carpocratians  members  of  this  sect.  This  is  original  with  him,  so  he 
requests  me  to  make  no  use  of  it,  as  he  designs  to  use  it  for  himself. 

I  am  delighted  to  see  so  profound  and  accurate  a  scholar ;  it  does 
one  good ;  it  sharpens  attention,  and  is  a  stimulus.  I  wanted  to  ask 
him  about  the  authenticity  of  the  Pentateuch,  but  could  not  bear  to 
trespass  on  his  time. 

During  this  year,  1838,  he  composed  a  treatise  upon  the 
Origin  of  Writing  among  the  Greeks,  Hebrews,  and  Egyptians, 
in  the  course  of  his  preparation  for  publishing  tbe  translation  of 
De  Wette.  On  this,  and  the  Homeric  question,  he  anticipated 
Mr.  Grote. 

May  13. — To  be  done  this  week.  Plant  the  other  side  the  brook. 
Sow  the  garden  vegetables.  Plough  the  new  land,  and  plant  the  old 
alleys.  See  about  the  Sunday-school.  Get  the  benches  for  the  vestry ; 
<ind  ask  Mr.  Ellis  to  be  superintendent." 

Following  this  are  pages  of  Greek  inscriptions,  from  tables 
found  at  Herculaneum,  the  two  tables  at  Amyclse,  the  Sigean 
Marble,  &c.,  &c.  From  ploughing  to  Boustrophedon  is  not,  an 
abrupt  transition. 

Sunday,  July  15,  1838. — Proceeded  to  Cainbridge,  to  hear  the  vale 
dictory  sermon  by  Mr.  Emerson.  In  this  he  surpassed  hiinself  as 
much  as  he  surpasses  others  in  the  general  way.  I  shall  give  no 
abstract.  So  beautiful,  so  just,  so  true,  and  terribly  sublime  was  his 
picture  of  the  faults  of  the  Church  in  its  present  position.  My  soul 
is  roused,  and  this  week  I  shall  write  the  long-meditated  sermons  on 
the  state  of  the  Church  and  the  duties  of  these  times. 
9 


114  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

How  many  generous  youths  were  fired  by  the  same  famous 
sermon,  which  Mr.  Emerson  preached  at  the  invitation  of  the 
graduating  Divinity  Class  ;  and  how  many,  unfortunately,  became 
infected  only  with  certain  idiomatic  peculiarities :  it  was  some 
time  before  the  neighbourhood  recovered  from  "  Ever  the  sun 
shines,"  &c.,  and  all  the  apothecary  shops  were  mobbed,  to 
discover  what  else  beside  "  myrrh  and  rosemary "  Religion  was. 
The  critics  used  to  toss  and  trample  these  phrases  with  great 
zeal,  thinking  they  had  the  man  in  them  and  were  punishing 
him  well.  The  man  was  a  long  way  off  in  safety,  serenely 
viewing  this  taurine  fury.  Not  critics  alone,  but  a  good  many 
promising  young  men  who  learned  better,  began  their  career 
with  popular  satire  of  the  idiom  which  clothed  this  pure  and 
independent  spirit.  It  was  a  mark  too  palpable,  and  the 
fingers  could  not  hold  the  stringe  Some  of  these  satirical  Sauls 
who  set  out  on  that  keen  Damascus  journey,  were  converted  by 
the  way.  A  noble,  genial  mind,  in  the  very  act  of  discharging 
its  spark  into  such  a  peculiarity,  is  disarmed,  and  the  man 
beneath  the  idiom  holds  him  prisoner.  How  many  he  held  fast, 
not  by  spreading  the  snare  of  a  system  whose  definiteness  chokes 
a  little,  like  a  noose,  while  it  retains,  but  by  enveloping  their 
minds  in  a  tranquil  and  poetic  freedom,  through  which  the 
objects  of  nature  might  be  sought  and  into  which  an  exacting 
theology  could  not  pursue.  The  liberal  gesture  itself  was  worth 
a  whole  body  of  divinity. 

Reverend  doctors  collected  over  this  discourse  in  great  alarm, 
declared  that  "what  was  not  folly  was  impiety,"  and  hoped, 
perhaps,  to  pick  it  to  death  by  force  of  numbers.  To  Mr. 
Parker  and  others  it  imparted  the  lesson  much  needed  at  that 
moment,  how  salutary  is  the  boldness  of  a  pure  and  constant 
mind. 

But  with  his  usual  good  sense  he  set  aside  certain  phrases 
which  subjected  the  generous  thought  to  misconstruction. 

Mr.  E.  says,  "  if  a  man  is  at  heart  just,  so  far  he  is  God."  Now,  it 
seems  that  he  mistakes  likeness  for  identity.  My  spirit  is  like  G-od, 
but  is  it  necessarily  God  ?  There  are  ten  peas  in  a  pod,  exactly  alike 
in  all  things :  are  there  not  ten  peas,  and  not  one  alone  ?  JJow,  if  a 
man's  spirit  could  become  exactly  like  God's,  would  his  be  the  same  as 
God's  ?&c. 

This  is  very  prosaic,  for  a  mystical  word  does  not  like  to  be 
accounted  for  ;  but  it  is  characteristic  of  his  love  of  order.  Love 


THEODORE   PARKER.  115 

of  freedom   never  overcame  that  humane  as   well  as  scholarly 
instinct. 

I  begin  to  fear  my  own  sermons  are  too  speculative.  Is  it  so  ?  I 
wish  to  stand  on  the  earth,  though  I  would  look  beyond  the  stars.  I 
would  live  with  men,  but  think  with  philosophers. 

The  autumn  of  this  year  ripened  his  surmises  about  Inspira 
tion.  And  here  is  the  first  formal  reduction  to  words  of  his 
future  doctrine. 

We  say  a  good  man  is  inspired  to  do  good  deeds.  Here  we  only 
mean  he  has  moral  goodness,  which  all  men  may  have  if  they  will.  We 
say  a  vise  man  is  inspired  to  teach  wisdom,  without  supposing  his  will 
is  interfered  with,  or  that  an  unnatural  (query,  preternatural  ?)  com 
munication  is  made  to  him.  We  say  the  writers  of  the  Scriptures 
were  inspired,  but  this  means  the  same  as  was  meant  in  the  other  case. 
The  inspiration  of  Jesus  Christ  could  not  differ  in  kind  from  that  of 
Socrates,  only  in  degree.  He  had  much  inspiration ;  Socrates  little. 
All  truth  comes  from  G-od,  for  it  is  God's  thought ;  all  morality,  for  it 
is  G-od's  will  (query,  moral  wishes  ?)  ;  all  religion,  for  it  is  His  feeling 
(this  is  afterwards  changed).  So  far,  then,  as  a  man  is  true,  virtuous, 
religious,  so  far  he  is  inspired — no  farther.  This  inspiration  comes  by 
the  use  of  the  proper  faculties.  Be  true  to  your  conviction,  be  patient, 
and  wait  for  it.  The  inspiration  will  come. 

In  the  July  number  of  the  Boston  Quarterly  Review,  which 
commenced  its  career  in  1838,  under  Mr.  Brovvnson,  there  is  a 
long  article  by  Mr.  Parker  upon  Dr.  Palfrey's  Ci  Lectures  on  the 
Jewish  Scriptures  and  Antiquities,"  which  marks  very  clearly 
the  progress  of  his  mind.  It  is  also  a  model  of  simplicity  and 
analytic  ability ;  the  reader  sees  at  once  that  the  critic  has  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  field  to  be  examined,  the  languages, 
the  learned  helps,  the  opinions  of  scholars,  as  well  as  principles 
of  his  own  that  are  independent  of  theology.  Upon  Miracles, 
the  immoralities  of  the  Pentateuch,  upon  Revelation,  the  views 
were  so  decidedly  liberal,  that  epithets  not  over-choice  were 
applied  to  the  writer.  His  religious  motive  was  said  to  be 
blasphemous.  The  best-informed  people  were  quite  certain  it 
was  written  by  an  atheist. 

Here  is  a  sentence  upon  Dr.  Palfrey's  treatment  of  the  mira 
cles  of  the  Pentateuch,  p.  269. 

While  he  admits  the  abstract  credibility  of  miracles,  he  seems 
desirous  of  restricting  the  miraculous  agency  to  the  smallest  sphere 
possible.  But  when  the  deus  ex  machind  is  once  fairly  introduced, 
neither  the  frequency  nor  the  rnarvellousness  of  his  operations  can 


116  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

produce  any  embarrassment.  It  is  no  relief  to  explain  away  ninety- 
and-niiie  miracles,  while  the  hundredth  is  permitted  to  remain.  If  one 
camel  may  go  through  the  needle's  eye,  all  may. 

But  at  this  time  he  believed,  with  some  exceptions,  the 
miracles  of  the  New  Testament. 

He  wrote  to  his  friend,  "  My  hair  stands  up  when  I  think  of 
what  I  have  written/'  His  friend,  after  reading  the  article, 
gives  it  considerable  criticism,  to  which  the  following  is  a 
reply  : — 

TO   WM.    SILSBEE. 

27  November,  1838. 

You  think  there  is  sarcasm.  I  do  not  think  that  is  too  strong  a 
word,  though  I  never  intended  anything  like  it.  I  hate  sarcasm,  yet  am, 
perhaps,  sarcastic.  I  wished  to  indulge  in  a  little  harmless  pleasantry, 
hut  I  fear  the  Dean  would  not  share  in  the  mirth  he  excited.  You 
think  I  indulge  the  ludicrous  vein  too  much.  Such  is  my  propensity, 
no  doubt ;  but  how  ought  things  to  be  treated  ?  Light  things  lightly, 
grave  things  gravely,  ridiculous  things  ridiculously.  I  must  think  ridi 
cule  has  its  place  even  in  criticism.  Por  instance,  suppose  M.  Poyer 
should  write  a  book  on  the  miracles  of  the  Saviour,  attempting  to 
explain  them  as  the  results  of  animal  magnetism,  a  critic  might  show, 
1,  that  the  attempt  was  not  successful ;  and  2,  how  ridiculous  it  was  to 
make  the  attempt,  and  represent  the  Saviour  as  filling  the  5000  with  a 
fancy  they  had  eaten,  and  letting  them  go  off  with  that  impression. 

Mr.  Parker  alludes  to  the  following  sentence  in  his  review. 
"  He  considers  the  religious  principle  as  the  most  important 
element  in  human  nature  ;  but  at  the  same  time  so  weak,  that, 
unlike  all  the  other  principles,  it  cannot  be  trusted  to  shift  for 
itself,  to  discover  the  truth  and  adhere  to  it."  The  letter  then 
proceeds : — 

To  my  mind,  "William,  there  is  something  strange  and  startling  in 
the  assertion,  that  man  has  been  so  constituted  that  he  can,  by  the  use 
of  his  faculties,  on  condition  of  obedience  to  their  laws,  achieve  all  the 
wonders  of  science  and  art,  tell  the  dimensions  of  the  planets  and 
their  whereabouts,  and  yet  never  be  able  by  the  use  of  his  highest 
faculties — I  mean  the  spontaneous  religious  sentiments — and  by  obe 
dience  to  their  laws,  become  able  to  learn  religious  truth,  and  to  be 
certain  it  was  truth  he  learned  and  not  error.  Is  it  not  most  of  all 
important  for  man  to  settle  the  questions  of  duty,  to  possess  religious 
truth  and  religious  life  ?  Has  Grod,  so  bountiful  in  bestowing  other 
powers,  given  him  none  to  discover  those  truths,  the  most  important,  the 
most  necessary  ?  If  I  was  told,  by  an  angel  from  Ouranus,  that  the 
inhabitants  of  that  planet  differed  much  from  us,  that  they  had  70 
senses  for  communing  with  the  outer  world,  I  should  say  with  confi 
dence,  with  my  present  views  of  God,  then  must  they  have  700  internal 


THEODORE   PARKER.  117 

senses  for  communing  with  God,  and  I  should  expect  him  to  add,  7000. 
Is  it  not  the  case,  William,  that,  while  the  Almighty  takes  such 
bounteous  care  of  all  little  things,  that  no  animal  can  be  found  in 
utmost  height  or  utmost  deep,  all  of  whose  wants  are  not  perfectly 
satisfied — none  found  wandering  up  and  down,  seeking  rest  and  finding 
none — He  lays  most  stress  on  the  most  important  of  his  works  ?  .  .  .  . 

Truth  flashes  on  the  man.  You  have  felt  such  visitations  ;  we  labour 
upon  a  thought,  trying  to  grasp  the  truth.  "We  almost  have  the  butter 
fly  in  our  hands,  but  cannot  get  it.  Again  we  try ;  it  will  not  come : 
we  walk,  sit,  pray,  it  will  not  come.  At  last  in  some  moment  it  flashes 
on  us,  the  crystals  form,  the  work  is  all  done.  Whence  came  it  ?  I  do 
not  know.  It  is  in  these  burning  moments  that  life  is  lived  ;  the  rest 
is  all  drudgery,  beating  the  bush,  ploughing,  and  weeding,  and  watering. 
This  is  the  harvest  hour. 

These  hours  are  few  to  any  man,  perhaps  not  more  than  two  in  a 
week  ;  but  yet  all  the  real  thought  of  the  man  is  compressed  into  these 
burning  moments. 

Now,  I  believe  God  is  the  fountain  of  all  Truth,  which  overflows 
from  Him  into  all  minds  that  lie  low  in  his  power,  wishing  to  feed  these 
minds  of  theirs  in  a  wise  passiveness  ;  but  how  this  influence  comes,  I 
do  not  know.  I  know  nothing  about  the  manner  in  which  my  soul  is 
connected  with  God :  I  only  know  the  fact.  It  is  a  matter  of  ex 
perience. 

FROM   THE  JOURNAL. 

Jan.  15,  1839. 
The  things  that  are  around  us, 

What  wondrous  truths  they  tell ! 
Though  flesh  to  earth  has  bound  us, 

The  gaol's  our  oracle. 
The  sunshine  in  its  splendour, 

The  meeker  moon  by  night, 
The  stars  that  do  attend  her, 

And  people  the  broad  light, 
In  us  an  open  ear  address, 

And  tranquilly  they  whisper 
Their  Word  of  Holiness. 

So  I  composed,  walking  along  in  the  beautiful  night  from  Boston, 
where  I  had  attended  a  meeting  of  ministers.  The  stars  were  un 
usually  bright  and  large.  The  pale  northern  lights  came  out,  and 
speared  up  with  rare  and  exquisite  beauty.  The  air  was  clear,  cool. 
The  Great  Bear  looked  like  a  constellation  of  suns  that  kept  watch  over 
the  earth.  I  had  become  somewhat  excited  by  silent  meditation,  when 
I  stopped  to  look  at  the  heavens  more  attentively.  A  little  brook,  not 
bound  by  the  frost,  ran  beside  the  road,  and  emitted  that  clear  tinkle 
so  remarkable  when  white  ice  covers  part  of  the  water.  As  Henry 
More  said,  "  My  sallies  towards  Nature  were  almost  ravishing !  " 

1839.  Visited  Dr.  Channing,  but  had  only  a  short  time  to  converse 
with  him.  He  is  in  fear  lest  the  same  state  of  things  should  at  length 
be  produced  in  this  country  which  now  exists  in  England,  among  the 
manufacturing  population.  The  cheapness  and  quickness  of  the  pas- 


118  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

sage  to  Europe  will  produce  competition:  their  dense  population 
renders  wages  lower  there,  so  they  will  become  lower  here.  Then 
they  will  work  fourteen  or  sixteen  hours  a-day ;  the  same  will  be  done 
here,  and  then — farewell,  all  culture,  all  progress,  and  come  debauchery 
and  ruin.  "  Oh,"  says  the  Doctor,  "  oh,  that  we  might  be  a  poor  people 
for  the  sake  of  the  highest."  He  thought  manufactures  would  not  be 
a  blessing  to  the  nation. 

We  talked  about  great  men.  He  said,  "Truth  shines  first  upon 
great  men,  who  slowly  or  suddenly  communicate  it  to  the  mass.  But 
to  produce  the  proper  effect,  the  mass  itself  must  be  in  a  fit  state. 
Thus  for  a  reform  is  needed  not  only  talents,  but  an  opportunity  to  use 
them.  Had  Luther  been  born  a  century  before,  he  would  only  have 
shared  the  fate  of  Huss  and  Savonarola.  He  was  a  less  man  than  Wick- 
liffe.  There  are  two  errors  touching  the  influence  of  great  men.  One 
makes  them  simply  the  mouth-piece  and  consciousness  of  the  people  ; 
the  other  calls  them  the  makers  of  the  people,  not  allowing  enough 
for  reciprocal  action.  But  the  greatest  man  stands  farthest  in  advance 
of  his  time,  and  so  makes  his  thought  dominant  for  ever. 

Some  enterprises  are  carried  through  without  any  great  men.  Such 
was  the  American  Bevolution.  No  man  shot  above  the  rest.  Dr.  C. 
thinks  Sam.  Adams  the  greatest  of  those  heroes.  I  pitted  Jefferson 
against  Adams,  and  he  (Jefferson)  stood  it  best.  I  have  been  sur 
prised  in  reading  his  letters  to  notice  how  he  foresaw  the  troubles 
that  would  grow  out  of  the  States-Bights  question,  and  from  difficulty 
in  apprehending  the  precise  meaning  of  the  Constitution,  both  of 
which  he  proposed  to  remedy  by  a  Bill  of  Bights  prefixed  to  the 
Constitution. 

1839.  Plato — A  study.  "Write  an  article  on  Plato,  setting  forth — 
1.  his  Method  and  System  ;  2.  the  Sources  of  both  ;  3.  his  Influence. 

Consider  the  relation  of  Platonism  to  Christianity.  See  Ackermann, 
Bauer,  and  the  reviews  of  these  works  in  the  Studien  und  Kritiken,  and 
Eohrs  Billiothek. 

Bitter's  article  on  New  Platonism  in  Stud.  u.  Krit.,  1838,  p.  247. 
On  the  Formation  of  the  "World-Soul.  Daub  and  Creuteer,  III.,  7-89. 

Consider  Plato's  own  Idea.  How  far  did  he  come  up  to  it  ?  His 
opinions  on  those  greatest  subjects  —  1.  God ;  2.  Man ;  3.  Their 
relation. 

Consider  his  influence  till  Christianity.  And  after  Christianity, 
running  parallel  with  it — sometimes  streams  falling  from  Platonism 
into  Christianity.  Note  Platonism  producing  mysticism  in  Dfonysius, 
Scotus  Erigena,  the  Victors,  &c.  (See  the  various  mystical  articles.) 

Consider  Plato  as  one  pole  of  thought,  and  Aristotle  the  other. 

TO   G.    W.    ELLIS,  IN   PARIS. 

January  3,  1839. 

I  have  often  told  you  of  the  noise  that  Emerson's  Address  made. 
The  other  day  they  discussed  the  question  in  the  Association,  whether 

he  was  a  Christian !    said  he  was  not,  and  defended  his  position 

rather  poorly,  you  may  suppose.    maintained  that  he  was  an 

atheist — a  downright  atheist.  But  nobody  doubted  he  was  a  virtuous 
and  most  devout  man,  one  who  would  enter  heaven  when  they  were 


THEODORE   PARKER.  119 

shut  out.  Of  course  they  were  iu  a  queer  predicament ;  either  they 
must  acknowledge  a  man  may  be  virtuous  and  yet  no  Christian  (which 
most  of  them 'thought  it  a  great  heresy  to  suppose),  and  religious,  yet 
an  atheist  (which  is  a  contradiction — to  be  without  God,  and  yet  united 
to  God},  or  else  to  affirm  that  Emerson  was  neither  virtuous  nor  re 
ligious,  which  they  could  not  prove.  Walker  and  Frothingham  thought 
he  should  be  called  a  Christian,  if  he  desired  the  name. 

Some  of  the  ministers  think  we  need  to  have  certain  "fundamentals" 
fixed  for  us  all  to  swear  by,  lest  the  new  school  among  the  Unitarians 
should  carry  the  whole  body  up  to  the  height  of  Transcendentalism. 
Now,  it  is  notorious  that  the  old  Unitarians,  in  the  days  when  there 
was  fighting  for  the  faith,  had  no  such  fundamentals ;  so  Mr.  Ripley 

showed  Dr. that  he  (the  Doctor)  belonged  to  the  new  school,  and 

the  movement  party  were  the  lineal  descendants  of  the  old  school  of 
Unitarians. 

It  is  quite  evident  there  are  now  two  parties  among  the  Unitarians : 
one  is  for  progress,  the  other  says,  "  Our  strength  is  to  stand  still." 
Dr.  Channing  is  the  real  head  of  the  first  party ;  the  other  has  no 
head 

Some  day  or  another  there  will  be  a  rent  in  the  body ;  not  soon,  I 
trust,  however.  t 

TO   DR.    FRANCIS. 

Feb.,  1839. 

Is  Revelation  at  an  end  ?  Is  the  Bible  better  than  the  soul  ?  The 
Hindoo  says  that  of  his  Yeda,  the  Mohammedan  of  his  Koran.  But 
if  the  Christian  says  so  he  dies ;  for  Christianity  is  the  religion  of  free 
dom.  So  the  fact  that  we  always  take  texts  from  the  Bible,  read  its 
good  passages,  and  pass  over  its  objectionable  clauses  and  allegories,  or 
bit  upon  a  higher  sense  to  passages,  tends  to  mislead  men  as  to  the  true 
nature  of  the  book. 

Do  not  suppose  I  have  any  disposition  to  undervalue  the  Bible.  I 
only  want  the  people  to  understand  it  as  it  is.  I  remember  talking 
with  old  Mr.  John  Eichardson  once  about  the  Bible.  He  said  he  had 
recently  read  the  first  part  of  the  Old  Testament  again,  and  he  was 
sorry  he  had  read  it,  because  he  could  not  believe  it,  and  before  he 
thought  he  believed  all. 

TO  THE   SAME. 

March. 

You  don't  know  how  much  I  rejoice  at  your  discovery  of  More's 
Poems.  I  saw  the  announcement  in  your  letter,  and  leaped  up  and 
shouted  for  joy ;  so  that  some  men  at  work  in  the  garden  were  boister 
ously  mirthful,  thinking  I  had  "gone  daft."  I  am  coming  to  see  you 
the  last  Saturday  in  March,  if  nothing  prevents,  to  talk  over  1001 
things,  among  others  about  Elohim  and  Jehovah. 

1839. — MEINEE'S  HISTOET  OP  EELIGIONS  is  a  much  better  book 
than  I  expected  to  find  it,  though  the  author  sets  out  with  wrong 
notions.  He  does  not  deem  religion  connatural  with  man,  nor  regard 
it  as  the  development  of  an  innate  principle.  It  is  quite  wonderful 


120  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

that  lie  does  not  do  this,  for  he  comes  very  near  it,  and  admits  the  uni 
versality  of  religion  among  all  the  tribes  of  earth,  and  seems  to  be 
religious  himself.  He  thinks  with  Lucretius  (though  not  acknowledging 
the  origin)  that  ignorance  of  the  true  causes  of  things  is  the  cause  of  re 
ligion.  Foolish  man!  the  ox  is  more  ignorant  thereof  than  Abraham; 
but  he  is  not  more  religious.  Besides,  as  men  come  to  understand  the 
causes  of  things,  they  become  more  religious,  as  a  thousand  examples 
show,  with  their  Lockes  and  Newtons.  It  is  only  your  Diderots  and 
Fredericks  of  Prussia  that  see  no  Grod  at  the  end  of  their  telescopes. 

He  takes  the  same  view  in  regard  to  Polytheism,  as  in  his  "  Historia 
doctrinae  de  vero  Deo,"  and  he  is  mistaken,  I  fancy.  But  I  admire  the 
man's  fairness.  He  thinks  there  is  no  little  paganism  in  Christianity. 
He  sets  out  with  two  fine  principles,  viz.,  that  all  religions  agree  more  than 
they  differ,  and  that  all  popular  religions  are  false  in  some  points  ;  but 
the  scholar  did  not  look  deeper  and  see  that  there  can  be  but  one  religion, 
as  there  is  but  one  kind  of  love,  or  time,  or  space,  though  various 
degrees,  and  perhaps  modes  thereof ;  nor  did  he  see  that  every  form  of 
religion  must  at  one  time  contain  more  of  good  than  evil,  of  truth  than 
falsehood — relative  to  the  state  of  development  in  the  mass  of  men 
— or  it  could  never  stand  as  long,  or  find  acceptance  with  the  mass. 
He  does  not  regard  religion  as  the  standard  of  the  development  of  man, 
nor  regard  it  as  the  consciousness  of  man  coming  to  himself.  He 
would  make  the  superficial  classification  of  religion  into  Polytheistic 
and  Monotheistic,  which  does  not  reach  below  the  skin.  It  is  only  a 
cutaneous  classification.  The  man  did  not  know  that  all  men  saw  the 
same  religious  truths  at  the  same  height  of  development. 

I  like  the  largeness  of  the  man,  his  wide  reading,  his  English  common- 
sense,  his  cool  way  of  stating  things ;  but  I  protest  against  his  super 
ficial  view.  Poor  fellow !  what  did  you  see  in  the  great  Book  of 
Nature  ?  Little  worth  seeing.  But  he  lived  in  a  bad  time. 

1839.  BIMAKNT,  HIST.  ATHEISMI,  &c. — This  is  a  very  weak  book ; 
of  little  value,  save  as  a  guide  to  the  other  literature  relating  to  the  sub 
ject.  He  seems  to  have  read  few  of  the  writers  whose  works  are 
examined,  but  takes  the  opinions  of  Buddeus  or  some  other  writer.  He 
often  says  such  or  such  an  author  is  accused  of  Atheism  by  this  or  that 
man,  but  he  concludes  nothing,  having  never  seen  his  works.  In  general 
he  seems  to  mean  to  be  fair,  and  perhaps  is  not  very  hasty  in  pronounc 
ing  upon  the  case  of  scholars — certainly  not  so  hasty  as  M.  Leclerc  in 
Bib.  Ch.,  Yol.  I.  But  the  book  is  weak — it  leaves  no  mark  on  your 
mind.  The  man  wrote  this  mechanically,  as  he  might  have  written  any 
other  book,  or  have  made  a  pair  of  shoes.  You  would  not  look  there 
for  principles  or  first  truths.  I  expected  to  find  some  curious  learning, 
but  there  is  none  such.  It  is,  however,  curious  to  see  how  foolishly  he 
trusts  to  statements  of  travellers  alleging  poor  barbarians  to  be 
atheists,  and  how  queerly  he  sometimes  concludes  a  man  was  an 
atheist ;  for  he  thinks,  holding  this  or  that  paradox,  the  man  must,  if 
consistent,  be  an  atheist,  forgetting  that  not  two  philosophers  in  ten 
centuries  are  consistent,  logical  consistency  of  thought  being  a  rarer 
gift  than  genius  itself.  Still  further,  it  is  instructive  to  see  how  the 
best  of  men  have  been  called  atheists — Locke,  Leibnitz,  Socrates, 
Leclerc,  Simon  (Richard),  Henry  More,  and  Norris. 

I  would  commend  that  book  to  the  illiberal,  thpt  they  may  see  how 


THEODORE   PARKER.  121 

easy  it  has  been  for  others  to  call  names — even  the  worst  names — and 
take  heed  to  their  ways.  You  and  I  may  tell  what  is  Atheism  (per 
haps)  ;  but  God  only  can  tell  who  is  an  atheist.  There  are  atheists  in 
speculation,  but  they  are  very  rare — somebody  says  there  never  was 
one — Dut  in  heart  there  are  many. 

CONSEEVATISM. — To  hear  men  talk  of  the  danger  attending  new 
things,  one  would  fancy  the  world  was  in  the  best  possible  state, 
governments  perfect,  churches  full  of  God's  Spirit,  all  men  contented, 
and  the  whole  nation  in  the  highest  degree  happy  and  joyful.  The 
conservatist  in  Religion  tells  you  all  the  world  will  come  to  an  end  if 
his  old  creed  is  left  behind.  He  never  fancies  God's  Spirit  always  takes 
new  forms,  each  suited  to  the  age,  climate,  &c. 

To  hear  others,  you  would  suppose  all  so  bad  that  no  man  could  find 
justice  in  any  court,  piety  in  any  church,  freedom  or  truth  in  any 
man,  or  bread  in  the  market — that  of  old  things  all  were  over-old ; 
of  new  things  none  were  new  enough. 

Now  light  comes  in  a  great  tide  from  God  down  to  man,  it  comes  from 
him  through  the  future,  and  is  only  reflected  to  us  from  the  past.  But 
new  light  is  ever  on  the  way  from  the  primal  light  of  all  our  being.  Far 
before  us,  in  the  celestial  spaces,  are  the  stars ;  millions  there  are  not 
yet  seen,  their  light  still  loitering  on  the  way,  all  the  space  between  us 
and  them  is  filled  with  their  light  not  yet  reaching  us.  So  all  the 
space  between  the  finite  and  the  Infinite  Soul  is  full  of  truth ;  why 
not  open  the  heart  and  welcome  the  light  of  truth  ?  Each  man  is 
connected  with  the  past ;  our  ancestors  were  the  first  man  and  woman ; 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  the  universe — its  eclipses  of  the  sun  and  occulta- 
tions  of  the  stars,  the  earthquakes  and  famines,  the  jubilees  of  the 
world — all  these  have  our  parents  shared  in,  joyfully  or  with  sadness. 
So  the  light  of  experience  comes  to  us  from  them.  But  we  are  con 
nected  alsp  with  the  future.  "Why  turn  our  backs  upon  it  ?  its  life  is 
not  yet  lived.  We  also  may  one  day  be  patriarchs — certainly  we  are 
all  links  in  the  great  chain  which  winds  round  the  two  axles  of  the 
Past  and  the  Future.  They  seem  immeasurably  distant,  yet  are  infi 
nitely  near— the  little  moment  called  now  being  all  that  is  between 
them — and  that  is  all  we  are. 

1839.  QUESTIONS  TO  BE  PONDERED. — MORALITY. — Is  there  any  valid 
distinction  between  subjective  and  objective  morality?  In  what  does 
it  consist  ?  "What  is  the  value  of  each,  separately  taken  ?  What  is 
the  result  of  their  identity  in  a  man's  mind  ? 

I.  It  is  commonly  supposed  there  is  an  objective  standard  and  cri 
terion  of  morality,  (1),  and  it  is  shown  or  said  to  exist  in  the  Bible; 
but  this  is  not  true  in  any  practical  sense ;  and,  if  it  were,  still  it  is  to 
be  found  out  from  an  examination  of  many  passages,  and  the  power  of 
doing  this  pre-supposes  an  internal  and  subjective  criterion,  which  ren 
ders  the  external  useless.  Besides :  the  Bible,  taken  as  a  whole,  is  pro 
gressive,  and  adapts  itself  to  the  rudeness  of  the  Jew,  as  well  as  to  the 
absolute  ideal  of  the  Christian.  It  is  vain,  therefore,  to  look  for  this 
criterion  there.  (2)  We  are  remanded  to  the  laws  of  the  land,  and 
(3)  to  the  customs  of  men.  But  these  are,  many  of  them,  arbitrary 
and  conventional :  the  work  of  men  no  wiser  nor  better  than  ourselves. 
Here,  then,  is  no  objective  standard.  Nor  is  such  an  one  in  the  lives 
and  maxims  of  wise  men  collectively  taken ;  for,  none  being  perfectly 


122  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

wise,  the  aggregate  of  their  wisdom  can  only  be  gathered  by  a  wise 
eclecticism,  which  is  only  possible  on  the  supposition  that  the  standard 
is  already  in  our  bosom. 

II.  There  can,  therefore,  be  no  objective  criterion ;  as  there  is  no 
perfect  circle  objective  and  actual  in  nature,  and  no  perfectly  beautiful 
woman  objective  and  actual  in  human  life.  There  are  perfect  circles 
undrawn  in  the  air ;  so  there  are  perfect  men,  physically  and  morally  in 
life,  only  not  actual.  Yet  there  is  an  absolute  circle — beauty  and 
morality — though  they  exist  ideally  and  not,  actually.  All  attempts 
hitherto  to  produce  them  are,  in  part,  failures. «  Euclid  and  Newton 
could  not  draw  a  perfect  circle,  nor  Phidias  make  a  perfect  beauty, 
though  five  hundred  Spartan  criteria  stood  naked  before  him ;  and 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  says,  "  Why  callest  thou  me  good  ?  "  for  the  objec 
tive  result  was  still  so  far  below  the  subjective  idea. 

Thoughts  and  queries  respecting  Biblical  matters  multiply 
Very  fast.  They  involve  all  the  points  which  were  soon  so 
vigorously  made  against  the  current  theology  0  He  wonders  at 
the  silence  of  Paul  and  Justin  Martyr  respecting  miracles  as  evi 
dence  of  the  divinity  of  Christ's  mission  ;  the  Book  of  Acts 
appears  to  be  mythological,  and  the  immoralities  of  the  Penta 
teuch  are  observed  farther. 

Notice  the  plea  set  up  of  the  wickedness  of  the  Canaanites,  and  com 
pare  the  similar  pleas  of  the  Eomans  respecting  the  wickedness  of  the 
Carthaginians,'  of  the  Spaniards  respecting  the  savages  in  the  New 
"World,  who  were  murdered  because  they  were  not  Christians. 

The  Kev.  Henry  Walker,  of  Charlestown,  Massachusetts,  who 
died  at  Santa  Cruz,  in  1838,  brought  home  the  first  copy  oi 
Strauss's  "  Life  of  Jesus  "  which  was  seen  in  this  vicinity.  He 
studied  in  Germany,  and,  procuring  there  the  first  edition,  which 
was  published  in  1835,  lent  it  to  Mr.  Parker  on  his  return  in 
1836  or  1837.  This  he  studied,  and  it  helped  to  mature  his 
growing  suspicions  that  the  New  Testament  had  a  mythology, 
as  well  as  the  Old,  and  as  well  as  all  transmitted  history  or  reli 
gion,  and  that  the  evidence  upon  which  miracles  rested  was  in. 
all  cases  insufficient  to  establish  clearly  their  claim  to  be  facts. 
But  the  book  of  Strauss  had  no  further  direct  influence.  He 
saw  that  it*  was  impossible  to  apply  Strauss's  definition  of  a 
myth  to  the  New  Testament.  For  Strauss  says  that  a  myth  is 
the  product  of  the  average  state  of  mind  of  a  people,  and  embo 
dies  their  prevailing  temper  and  anticipations.  To  create  a  myth, 
nothing  historical  or  personal  is  requisite.  The  people  will  take 
any  lay-figure  that  happens  to  attract  them,  and  drapie  it  with 
their  preconceptions.  The  Jews  took  Jesus  in  this  way,  and 


THEODORE   PARKER.  123 

dressed  him  up  with  the  Messianic  and  spiritual  costume  of  their 
own  ideas  and  hopes.  The  religion  thus  presented  may  be 
genuine,  but  was  never  displayed  by  a  person,  simply  because 
it  is  the  possession  of  humanity,  and  continent  of  ideas  that  are 
beyond  the  capacity  of  any  one  person  to  display.  Mr.  Parker 
shows,  in  his  capital  article  *  upon  Strauss's  book,  that  "  if 
there  was  no  historical  Christ  to  idealize,  there  could  be  no 
ideal  Christ  to  seek  in  history,"  that  the  effect  cannot  precede 
the  cause,  and  that  Christ  is  historical  in  the  sense  of  actually 
incarnating  the  religious  ideas  attributed  to  him.  Otherwise 
there  would  be  no  mythology  in  the  New  Testament,  no  miracu 
lous  conception,  no  temptation,  no  ascension.  The  person  must 
be  large  enough  to  carry  the  mythology  ;  but  according  to 
Strauss,  the  myth  itself  is  the  only  real  thing — the  essential 
just  outgrowth  of  a  people,  which  pretends  a  person,  or  catches  one 
for  ground-tackle  to  hold  the  myth  in  its  place.  Mr.  Parker  shows, 
in  two  or  three  pages  of  excellent  raillery,  how  any  historical 
event  whatsoever  might  be  dissolved,  in  the  Straussian  fashion, 
in  a  mythical  solution,  as  preliminary  to  a  precipitation  of  its 
"  seminal  ideas  "  in  their  primitive  form.  And  he  exposes  the 
pantheistic  features  of  the  theory  :  and  justly,  too,  for  it  is  one 
thing  to  say  that  impersonal  ideas  create  and  exhibit  themselves 
in  history,  and  another  and  an  erroneous  thing  to  say  that  imper 
sonal  ideas  are  the  only  history.  The  boundless  generality  of 
Pantheism  could  never  stay  in  Mr.  Parker's  field-bred  and  mus 
cular  mind ;  but  he  did  not  sit  panic-stricken  in  his  study,  and 
shriek  to  see  the  nebulae  blotting  here  and  there  the  sky. 

Perhaps  Strauss's  book  also  confirmed  his  growing  idea  of  the 
simply  human  nature  of  Jesus,  "  a  carpenter's  son  ;  "  but  into 
that  presentation  of  Jesus  there  flowed  awe  and  love  for  the 
divine  character,  a  glad  recognition  of  every  spiritual  and  bene 
ficent  trait  of  a  son  of  God's  holy  soul,  of  a  son  of  Man's  frater 
nal  heart.  He  still  accepted  some  of  the  miracles,  with  entire 
indifference,  however,  not  caring  whether  the  evidence  sufficed  or 
not  to  establish  them  as  facts.*f*  A  genuine,  holy  person,  Jesus, 
containing  the  highest  known  religion  and  morality,  was  always 
held  by  him  with  emphasis,  and  prized  as  a  guarantee,  with 

*  Christian  Examiner,  April,  1840.  Review  of  the  second  edition,  1837,  brought 
home  to  him  by  Rev.  George  Ellis. 

t  His  tendency  at  this  time  may  be  found  in  an  article  in  the  Western  Messenger, 
Dec.  1840,  and  Jan.  1841,  "The  Relation  of  the  Bible  to  the  Soul" 


124  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

other  saintly  men  and  women,  of  that  which  is  possible  to  man 
kind. 

By-and-bye  he  said  that,  although  Jesus  still  overtopped  the 
race,  the  time  might  arrive  when  a  new  manifestation  of  the 
Infinite  Truth  and  Love  would  be  made  ;  for  it  was  absurd  to 
insist  that  the  past  had  exhausted  in  any  direction  the  divine 
capability.  This  was,  in  the  first  place,  only  an  injunction  to 
restrain  men  from  bigoted  trespassing  upon  the  Omnipotent 
and  Infinite  God:  as  when  he  said  he  would  not  declare  that  a 
miracle  was  an  impossibility,  but  would  wait  for  the  evidence 
of  its  reality.  But  it  was,  in  the  second  place,  very  charac 
teristic  of  his  hope.  That  was  wonderfully  strong.  It  was  an 
intuitive  expectation  of  more  goodness,  more  truth,  more  happi 
ness,  a  hunger  in  behalf  of  men,  that  they  should  be  recipient 
for  ever  of  an  ever-amplifying  love  and  joy.  He  would  cast 
himself  with  ardent  and  generous  predictions  upon  a  future 
when  even  the  pirate,  the  kidnapper  and  the  adulterer  should 
equal  the  manly  beauty  of  a  Christ.  He  would  throw  himself 
against  the  brazen  door  of  a  fateful  theology,  to  hold  it  open  for 
the  vilest  man  and  woman,  for  all  men,  to  keep  it  ajar  for  the 
free  communications  of  spirit,  to  let  into  the  world  era  surpass 
ing  era,  savior  after  savior,  to  preserve  salvation  for  all  eter 
nity.  There  never  was  a  more  tender  and  fraternal  hope  ;  in 
the  interest  of  the  miserable  and  profligate,  and  in  the  interest 
of  truth,  it  stood  in  the  way  to  forbid  theology  drawing  finite 
lines  against  the  Infinite  perfection.  The  very  bluntness  of  his  lan 
guage,  when  he  imagined  new  Christs,  or  bade  the  harlot  equal  the 
old  one,  was  honourable  and  worthy  of  respect,  as  when  a  hardy 
fist  fights  a  fainting  woman  through  a  brutal  crowd  into  air  and 
safety.  All  his  characteristics  helped  this  humane  hopefulness 
forth  into  the  service  of  mankind.* 

His  depressing  moods  were  no  bar  to  it.  Cheerfulness  was 
only  in  favour  with  it,  and  indigestion  could  not  thwart  it.  The 
resentment  of  an  overworked  brain  did  no  harm  to  this  beautiful 
disposition  of  his  whole  interior  life. 

It  prompted  him  to  seek  the  society  of  people  who  were  in 
earnest  to  discover  what  was  true,  humane,  and  pure.  It  made 
no  difference  whether  they  knew  much  or  little.  John  Augustusf 

*  Compare  "Sermons  of  Theism,"  pp.  29,  364. 

•f*  The  famous  shoemaker  of  Boston,  who  devoted  his  time,  love,  and  substance  to 
youthful  unfortunates  of  either  sex,  through  instruction,  charity,  and  active  intervention 
in  the  Courts. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  125 

was  more  to  him  than  any  magnate  of  rhetoric  or  science.  And 
where  two  or  three  came  together,  drawn  by  their  hopeful  seek 
ing,  he,  too,  was  drawn  to  observe  and  sympathise.  One  expe 
dition  of  this  kind  took  place  in  the  summer  of  3840,  when  he 
set  out,  with  one  or  two  friends,  to  walk  to  Groton,  attracted 
by  the  call  for  a  Convention  issued'  by  Gome-Outers  and 
Second-Ad ventists.  Sympathy  and  liberal  feeling  sent  him 
that  road,  but  good  sense  and  knowledge  of  rnan  appears  also  to 
have  gone  with  him. 

Aug  .10. — At  Newton  we  fell  in  with  Cranch,  and  haled  him 
into  our  brotherhood  of  pedestrians.  "We  walked  on  to  Concord, 
stopping  ever  and  anon  at  farm-houses  by  the  way-side.  The  route  is 
beautiful,  and  talk  of  various  kinds  beguiled  its  length.  At  Concord, 
we  saw  old  Dr.  Eipley,  in  his  90th  year,  who  charged  us  to  keep  the 
true  faith,  and  admonished  us  of  the  evils  of  becoming  Egomites,  as  he 
called  certain  men  who  claimed  a  divine  mission  for  themselves  (ego, 
mitto.)  "We  all  assembled  and  took  tea  with  E.  "W.  E.  He  and  Eipley 
had  all  the  talk,  which  turned  entirely  upon  the  Dial*  its  merits  and 
defects,  its  uses  and  abuses.  Eeally  it  was  quite  too  bad.  The  only 
good  thing  he  said  was,  "  Come  and  look  at  this  print  of  *  Endymion,' 
which  is  very  beautiful;  so  likewise  is  its  rival,  the  'Coming  of  Morning,' 
drawn  by  two  dappled  steeds,  and  attended  by  seven  virgins,  daughters 
of  the  sun."  Carlyle  sent  it  .to  Mrs.  E.  In  our  walk,  E.  expressed  to 

me  his  admiration  of and  his  foolish  article  in  the  Dial.  He  said 

it  was  full  of  life.  But,  alas !  the  life  is  Emerson's,  and  not 's, 

and  so  it  had  been  lived  before. 

At  Groton  we  went  to  reconnoitre,  and  find  Mr. ,  the  person 

who  called  the  Convention  which  we  went  to  attend.  Our  host  directed 
us  to  a  certain  house,  which  we  could  not  find,  so  we  accosted  a  man  in 
the  street, — 

"  Can  you  tell  us  where  Mr. lives  ?  " 

"  He  boards  with  Brother  Hall,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  off;  but  his 
wife  is  up  there  in  that  house." 

Eipley  replied,  "  It  is ,  sir,  and  not  his  wife  we  want  to  see." 

"Oh,  you  will  find  him  down  at  Brother  Euggs's,  just  behind  the 
meetin'-hpuse." 

Thither  we  went,  and  found  a  body  of  men  gathered  about  the  door 

*  "The  Dial :  a  Magazine  for  Literature,  Philosophy,  and  Religion,"  was  commenced 
this  year.  Margaret  Fuller  was  the  leading  editor,  Mr.  Bipley  the  acting  editor,  and  Mr. 
Emerson  a  contributor  much  relied  on.  It  was  designed  to  encourage  a  free  speculation, 
to  report  the  good  things  in  Philosophy  and  Religion  which  the  other  journals  considered 
bad,  and  to  concentrate  the  genial  thinking  of  the  neighbourhood.  Many  crude  notions 
crept,  through  its  courageous  invitation,  into  print.  Some  of  Mr.  Parker's  best  articles 
were  contributed  to  the  Dial :  "German  Literature,"  Jan.,  1842;  "  The  Pharisees," 
July,  1841  ;  "Thoughts  on  Theology,"  a  careful  review  of  Corner's  Christology,  April, 
1842  ;  "  Hollis  Street  Council,"  a  very  plain-spoken  review  of  the  proceedings  of  a  Uni 
tarian  Council  called  in  the  case  of  Rev.  John  Pierpont,  who  had  preached  against  vice  in 
his  parish,  Oct.,  1842.  Of  these,  the  article  on  "German  Literature '  is  full  of  learning 
and  humour. 


126  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

of  the  Brother.  "We  were  introduced  to and  found  that  dignified 

personage  a  youngster  about  four-and-twenty,  about  the  middle  size, 
with  a  countenance  pleasant  rather  than  otherwise.  He  had  a  cunning 
look,  appeared  designing  and  ambitious.  His  natural  language  was  not 
prepossessing.  It  said  to  me,  "  Take  care — take  care  ! "  After  further 
introductions,  we  inquired  as  to  the  work  to  be  done,  and  were  told  by 
the  dignitary  himself,  that  there  were  two  questions  not  to  be  discussed 
— to  wit,  What  constitutes  a  Christian  ?  and  What  constitutes  a  Christian 
Church  ?  Here  we  saw  for  the  first  time  the  mark  of  the  Beast  and  the 
print  of  his  foot.  That  night  we  were  told  the  discourse  would  be  very 
interesting.  Brother  Jones  was  to  hold  forth  on  the  Millennium  and  the 
Second  Coming  of  Christ  in  1843.  But  thinking  if  Christ  could  not 
come  till  1843,  we  could  not  wait  so  long,  but  would  say  with  Sisera, 
"  Why  tarry  the  wheels  of  his  chariot  ?  "  we  adjourned,  and  had  a  good 
talk. 

THE  COME-OFTEES. — These  are  a  body  of  men  on  Cape  Cod,  amount 
ing  to  some  hundreds  in  the  several  towns  there,  who  are  called  by  this 
name.  They  take  no  distinctive  appellation  themselves,  but  receive 
this  name  from  the  other  sects,  because  they  have  come  out  from  the 
churches.  "We  had  seen  some  of  them  in  various  places  during  the 
meeting,  and  asked  them  to  come  up  to  our  room  in  the  tavern,  when 
they  and  others  assembled  to  the  number  of  twenty  or  thirty,  and  we 
had  a  talk. 

1.  NICKEESON  AND  DAYIS,  OF  BEEWSTEE. — These  are  called  the 
"ministers"  of  the  Come-Outers.  They  were  two  as  rough-looking  men  as 
you  would  meet  in  a  summer's  day — rough,  I  mean,  in  their  exterior, 
for  their  countenance  was  full  of  the  divine.  Their  hands,  their  dress, 
their  general  air,  showed  they  "belonged  to  the  humblest  class  in 
society.  Mr.  N.  was  asked  to  state  his  views  of  progress  in  the 
Christian  course,  which  he  did  most  beautifullv.  There  are  three 
stages  of  growth.  1.  The  man  sees  the  truth  and  resolves  to  embrace 
it.  Here  he  finds  no  great  satisfaction ;  the  longing  is  not  appeased. 
He  sees  light,  however,  and  goes  towards  it.  2.  The  man  is  in 
righteousness,  but  is  not  made  perfect.  He  struggles,  is  virtuous,  but 
not  yet  good ;  life  is  a  battle  in  which  he  is  beginning  to  conquer,  but 
has  not  yet  won  the  victory.  3.  He  gains  the  complete  victory.  He  fears 
nothing  in  this  life  or  the  next ;  distress  does  not  trouble  him,  nor  suc 
cess  elate.  He  lies  low  in  God's  hand.  God  dwells  in  him,  and  he  in 
God.  All  his  thoughts  are  brought  into  subjection  to  Christ.  He 
has  become  one  with  God,  just  as  Christ  was  one  with  Him. 

THEIE  VIEW  OF  THE  ORDINANCES. — The  Christian  ordinances,  say 
they,  we  esteem  most  highly :  they  are  our  daily  work.  As  to  the  Lord's 
Supper,  they  think  little  of  that.  It  is  rarely  administered,  and  never 
except  some  one  is  moved  to  it  by  a  spontaneous  action  of  the  divine 
feelings.  They  told  how  it  was  administered  the  last  time.  Several 
had  met  at  Sister  Nancy's  house  for  worship  one  evening,  and  Brother 
Some-one  said  the  Spirit  moved  him  to  eat  the  Lord's  Supper ;  so  Sister 
Nancy  went  to  the  pantry,  and  brought  forth  bread  and  wine,  and  set 
it  on  the  table,  and  the  Brother  sat  down  and  ate  and  drank.  "  All 
our  meals,"  said  they,  "are  the  Lord's  Supper,  if  we  eat  with  a  right 
heart." 


THEODORE   PARKER.  127 

CHURCH  DISCIPLINE. — When  one  wants  to  become  one  of  their  num 
ber,  he  comes*aiid  associates  with  them.  No  questions  are  asked  about  his 
creed.  We  asked,  "  Then  suppose  some  one  should  come  who  did  not 
believe  in  Christ,  or  the  Bible,  or  in  God,  what  would  you  do  ?  "  "  Take 
him  by  the  hand,"  said  they,  "  and  bid  him  welcome,  and  God-speed  in 
the  good  course."  "But  would  you  suffer  such  an  one  to  speak  in  your 
meetings  like  any  other  Brother  ?  "  "  Most  certainly,"  said  they ;  "  do 
you  think  we  fear  that  error  is  stronger  than  truth  ?  " 

PREACHING. — These  ministers  said  they  were  ministers  of  silence  noless 
than  of  speech,  and  only  spoke  when  moved  thereto  ;  and  each  who  was 
moved  spoke  without  restraint,  for  it  took  the  whole  Church  to  preach  the 
whole  Gospel. 

THEIR  MINISTERS. — One  of  them  was  well  educated  at  a  theological 
seminary  before  he  came  among  them,  but  he  cast  off  his  doctrinal 
views,  and  became  useful  with  them.  If  he  wants  anything,  they  give 
it  him.  If  they  want,  he  gives  them,  which  is  oftener  the  case — for  the 
fathers  ought  to  lay  up  for  the  children,  not  the  children  for  the  fathers. 
Mr.  D.  is  their  strongest  man.  He  is  called  on  to  visit  infidels  and  the 
like  on  their  death-bed,  and  in  other  extreme  cases.  He  works  out  for 
his  daily  bread,  yet  contrived  last  year  to  expend  in  charity  100  dollars. 
We  asked,  "  Do  you  count  your  calling  sacred  ?  "  "  Oh,  yes,  but  no  more 
so  than  that  of  the  humblest  Sister  among  us,  if  she  be  but  six  years  old." 
This  Brother  Joshua  never  sleeps  more  than  four  hours  in  the  night ; 
rises  at  four  o'clock  the  year  round.  Often  before  daylight,  the  family 
hear  him  at  his  devotions,  sending  up  his  pious  ejaculations;  and  when 
very  fervent,  so  that  he  may  not  disturb  others,  he  goes  out  to  the  barn, 
and  lets  fly  the  torrent  of  his  prayer. 

Mr.  B ,  of  Centreville,  Barnstable,  is  a  plain  Cape-Cod  fisherman, 

a  skipper,  it  may  be.  His  bright,  cheerful  countenance  charmed  me. 
He  made  a  short  speech,  with  many  gestures,  which  troubled  Brother 

H not  a  little.     The  speech  was  to  this  effect :  "  I  see  about  in  the 

land  many  little  Babels  of  sectarian  churches,  as  you  call  them — now  I 
see  you  wish  to  pull  down  these  little  Babels,  to  take  the  combustible 
materials  of  which  they  are  made,  and  erect  one  great  Bubel  into  which 
you  may  enter.  You  are  in  a  fair  way,  and  if  this  is  not  confusion  of 
tongues  already  prevailing,  I  don't  know  what  confusion  is."  Brother 
H was  not  a  little  horrified  at  the  statement. 

A  good  while  after,  Mrs.  B ,  or  "  Sister  Olive,"  as  they  called 

her,  arose  and  spoke,  her  husband  cheering  her  on  as  she  faltered  a 
little,  and  another  calling  out  from  the  distance,  "  Go  on,  Sister,  Jesus 
is  with  you."  She  stated  meekly  and  beautifully — that  Cape-Cod  saint 
— her  religious  history,  her  connection  with  an  orthodox  church,  then 
with  a  Free-will  Baptist,  and  her  persecution  in  both.  "  Now,"  she  said,' 
"the  Lord  has  set  me  in  a  large  place."  Her  remarks  showed  plainly 
that  she  spoke  from  the  divine  life. 

I  afterwards  talked  with  her,  and  saw  how  divine  her  heart  appeared, 
and  her  countenance  also  ;  for  she  has  one  of  the  fairest  faces  I  have 
seen  for  many  moons. 

THE  BIBLE. — They  use  the  Bible,  but  do  not  worship  it,  nor  call  it 

master.     Said  B to  me,  "  Men  worship  it  now,  just  as  the  old 

Pagans  worshipped  their  idols.      Now  the  Bible  is  a  scripture  of  the 


128  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Word,  not  the  "Word  itself;  for  the  Word  is  never  written  save  in  the 
living  heart." 

They  admit  ihat  a  man  is  inspired  so  far  as  he  is  obedient,  and  that 
he  gets  the  Truth  by  obedience. 

There  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-five,  perhaps,  who  interested  us  much. 
His  exterior  was  that  of  a  plain  working-man.  Indeed,  he  is  still  a 
farmer,  but  he  is  a  minister  also,  and  so  preaches.  He  has  little  educa 
tion  in  the  way  of  books,  but  has  thought  much  and  deep.  Alcott 
asked  him  about  Christ,  and  he  said  to  him,  "  Truth  was  Christ,  and 
Christ  Truth."  He  expects  salvation  from  the  inward  and  living  Christ, 
by  becoming  the  Christ.  In  short,  he  had  the  same  notions  of  Christ 
that  Cudworth  sets  forth  in  that  remarkable  sermon.  His  idea  of  life 
and  death  was  peculiar ;  if  we  possessed  the  entire  truth,  this  body 
would  never  die,  but  would  be  caught  up  and  spiritualized.  I  don't 
know  that  I  understand  this  notion  completely,  but  if  I  do  it  is  rather 
weak. 

ME.  MANTALINI. — This  illustrious  person  has  another  name.  I  have 
given  him  this  merely  as  a  nom  de  resemblance,  on  account  of  his  striking 
likeness  to  that  distinguished  worthy.  His  air  and  address  are  the 
same  ;  even  his  dress,  his  watch-chain,  and  all  the  cockney  equipments 
are  the  same.  His  whiskers  would  have  been  the  admiration  of  his 
prototype.  He  spoke  several  times,  and  with  the  most  dandiacal  air 
conceivable.  Among  other  things,  he  likened  the  Christian  Church  to 
Samson  going  down  to  Timnath,  and  slaying  a  lion.  I  thought  to  give 
our  friend  a  touch,  so  I  replied,  and  said,  that  our  brother,  in  a  manner 
no  less  significant  than  touching,  had  compared  the  Christian  Church. 
There  was  a  resemblance,  for  Samson  was  a  Nazarite  from  his  birth. 
The  locks  of  his  strength  were  not  to  be  shown,  nor  the  wine  of  pride 
to  pass  his  lips.  So  long  he  was  invincible,  and  bore  off  the  gates  of 
his  enemies,  and  slew  a  thousand  men  with  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass.  So 
was  the  Church,  so  long  as  it  remained  as  God  designed,  invincible. 
But  when  it  relied  on  that  Dalilah  of  visible  organizations,  she  shore 
off  the  locks  of  its  strength,  delivered  it  into  the  hands  of  the  Philis 
tines,  who  put  out  its  eyes,  and  made  it  grind  in  the  mill  of  its  enemies. 
Well  for  the  Church  if  it  can  pull  down  the  temple  of  its  foes,  and 
crush  them  in  its  own  death,  &c.  After  the  meeting  was  over,  my  dis 
tinguished  friend  came  up  to  me  with  an  air  of  most  intolerable  pa 
tronage,  and  told  how  glad  he  was  to  hear  me  speak,  and  that  he  assented 
to  nearly  all  I  had  said. 

This  man  has  a  history.  .  .  .  Now  the  Christians  *  are  fishing 
for  the  amphibious  gentleman,  but  the  draught  will  not  be  miraculous 
.if  they  capture  him.  I  should  think  the  question  would  be  who  shall 
not  have  him. 

EESULTS  AND  IMPRESSIONS  IN  MY  OWN  MIND. — 1.  I  am  surprised  to 
find  so  much  illiberality  amongst  the  men  who  called  the  Convention ;  they 
were  not  emancipated  from  the  letter  of  the  Bible  nor  the  formality  of 
a  Church.  They  simply  wish  to  pull  down  other  sects  to  make  room  for 
their  own,  which  will  probably  be  worse  than  its  predecessors.  2.  I 

*  Pronounced  Christ-ians ;  the  name  of  a  sect  in  the  United  States,  which,  with  un 
important  differences,  sympathizes  chiefly  with  Methodists  and  Baptists.  The  more  cul 
tivated  members  approach  the  Unitarians. 


THEODOKE   PARKER.  329 

< 

am  surprised  and  enchanted  to  find  these  plain  Cape-Cod  men  with 
numerous  others  who  have  made  actual  my  own  highest  idea  of  a 
Church.  I  feel  strengthened  by  their  example.  Only  let  it  be  united 
with  the  highest  intellectual  culture.  3.  I  am  surprised  to  find 
many  others  who  have  emancipated  themselves  from  the  shams  of  the 
Christian  Church,  and  now  can  worship  God  at  first  hand  and  pray 
largely  and  like  men.  I  don't  know  that  I  have  got  any  new  ideas ;  but 
certainly  my  confidence  in  my  old  ideas  has  been  deepened,  for  I  see 
they  may  be  made  actual. 

10 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Qroton  Convention — Letters— Speculations  upon  Physical  and  Moral  Evil— Sin. 

AFTER  the  private  record  of  impressions,  given  in  the  last 
chapter,  it  will  be  interesting  to  have  the  speech  which  Mr. 
Parker  delivered  before  the  Convention.  It  is  taken  from  a 
newspaper  which  existed  at  that  time  to  advocate  reforms  in 
theological  and  ecclesiastical  matters. 

We  have  had  already  several  definitions  of  sectarianism  ;  but  it  is 
useless  to  attempt  to  define  sectarianism  until  we  know  what  Christi 
anity  is,  as  useless  as  to  define  a  crooked  line  before  knowing  what  a 
straight  line  is.  To  find  out  what  Christianity  is,  if  we  go  to  the 
usages  and  opinions  of  Christ  himself,  the  work  is  plain  and  easy.  The 
way  of  Christianity,  which  is  identical  with  the  way  of  salvation,  is  so 
plain  and  easy,  that  none  can  mistake  it.  A  young  man  asks  of 
Christ,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  have  eternal  life  ?"  The  answer  is  very 
short :  "  Keep  the  commandments."  And  when  the  young  man  asked 
"  Which  ?"  the  chief  moral  precepts  were  pointed  out,  and  the  practical 
duties  of  love  to  neighbours  enforced.  The  same  question  was  put  to 
him  in  a  little  different  form.  A  scribe  asked,  "  Which  is  the  great 
commandment  of  the  law  ?"  He  answered,  "  Love  God  with  all  thy 
heart;"  "love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself;  on  these  two  command 
ments  hang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets."  This  is  the  Christian  scheme ; 
here  is  its  righteousness,  its  religion  ;  all  are  here.  Christianity  is  a 
divine  life :  a  life  of  outward  goodness — a  life  of  inward  holiness.  Try 
this  by  reason — reason  enlightened  by  holiness  ;  there  is  nothing  which 
jars  with  reason — nothing  that  conflicts  with  human  nature.  Try  it  by 
conscience — Grod's  most  intimate  presence  in  the  soul ;  and  when  this 
light  shines  most  fully  into  the  heart,  you  shall  find  nothing  wrong — 
nothing  harsh — nothing  arbitrary  in  this  scheme  of  the  whole  duty  of 
man.  Here,  among  things  essential  to  morality  and  religion,  to  Chris 
tianity  and  eternal  life,  not  a  word  is  said  about  belief  in  any  dogmas  ; 
not  a  word  about  the  Atonement — the  Old  Testament  or  the  New  Tes 
tament — not  a  word  about  Baptism,  or  anything  ritual.  Christianity 
was  a  divine  life,  not  a  belief. 

Now,  I  take  it,  sectarianism  is  a  departure  from  this  simple  method 
of  Christ.  We  find  departures  even  in  the  New  Testament,  as  I  will 
show,  though  not  in  historical  order.  1.  At  dead  of  night,  the  jailer, 
alarmed  by  an  earthquake,  asked  Paul,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 
The  answer  was,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  &c. ;  t.  e.9  believe 
in  Christianity;  for  the  concrete  is  often  used  for  the  abstract  in  the  New 


THEODORE   PARKER,  131 

Testament.  The  "  word  of  the  Lord  "  was  soon  "  spoken  to  him," 
and  he  was  baptized  "  the  same  hour  of  the  night."  Here,  the  only 
departure  from  the  method  of  Christ,  previously  laid  down,  consisted 
in  the  ordinance  of  baptism  being  insisted  on.  Christ  had  caused  some 
to  be  baptized,  in  compliance  with  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  as  a 
symbol  of  the  divine  life.  But  Paul  seems  to  consider  it  as  something 
of  importance — an  essential  matter.  He  was  not  satisfied  without  the 
sign,  though  he  had  the  thing  signified.  Perhaps,  however,  the  great 
apostle  did  not  deem  it  essential ;  and  the  fact  that  he  baptized  but  few 
would  favour  this  supposition.  Here,  then,  is  Paul's  scheme.  He  says 
not  a  word  about  the  Old  Testament — for  he  cast  it  behind  him  as  a  law 
of  sin  and  death  ;  not  a  word  about  the  New  Testament — for  it  was  not 
written  save  in  faithful  hearts ;  and  never,  in  his  epistles  or  elsewhere, 
does  he  insist  on  belief  in  those  things  deemed  most  essential  by  the 
modern  Church.  He  knows  nothing  of  the  miraculous  birth,  and  pro 
claims  no  miracle  but  the  Eesurrection.  Examine  Paul's  scheme,  as  that 
of  Christ,  and  we  can  object  only  to  the  ritual  observances ;  and  perhaps 
even  that  is,  with  him,  but  a  symbol,  and  so  is  legitimate  and  Christian. 
2.  Now,  Peter  and  the  first  Christians  departed  more  widely  from 
the  simplicity  of  Christ.  Peter,  who  had  once  denied  his  master  during 
his  life,  misunderstanding  the  Old  Testament,  declares,  "  Every  soul  that 
will  not  hear  that  prophet "  (meaning  Christ)  "  shall  be  destroyed  from 
among  the  people ;"  and,  with  right  Jewish  narrowness,  adds  that  "  there 
is  no  other  name  given  under  heaven  whereby  men  can  be  saved,"  words 
which  seem  to  have  a  different  meaning  from  those  of  Christ, — "  I  am 
the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life."  It  is  not  very  easy  to  deter 
mine  exactly  what  method  Peter  did  propose ;  for  he  taught  one  thing 
at  Jerusalem  and  another  at  Aiitioch.  This  seems  clear  that  he  did  not, 
like  Christ,  count  a  divine  life  as  the  all-in-all  of  Christianity ;  but,  while 
he  himself  lived  as  the  Gentiles,  compelled  the  Gentiles  to  accept  the 
whole  Mosaic  law,  for  which  cause  Paul  "  withstood  him  to  the  face" 
Peter,  it  seems,  was  inclined  to  go  all  lengths  with  the  other  Jewish 
Christians,  and  insisted  that  the  old  law, — wrathful,  foolish,  and  absurd 
as  it  was  in  its  form, — should  be  bound  like  a  millstone  on  the  disciples' 
necks.  The  most  revolting  rite  of  the  law  was  selected  as  the  point  not 
to  be  given  up  ;  for  without  this  rite  there  was  no  salvation.  Such  was 
Christianity,  according  to  the  Jewish  Christians  at  Antioch. 

The  controversy  between  Paul  and  Peter  (who  seem  to  represent 
the  two  poles  of  the  new  religion)  became  important,  and  the  whole 
matter  was  brought  before  the  council  at  Jerusalem.  That  body,  like 
similar  bodies  at  all  times,  compromised  the  matter,  and  added  to 
Paul's  list  of  essentials  certain  others  of  their  own,  viz.,  abstinence 
from  blood,  from  things  strangled,  and  from  all  food  offered  to  idols,  of 
which  Christ  said  not  a  word.  Paul  did  not  acquiesce  in  this  decision, 
except  as  a  matter  of  occasional  convenience,  and  in  cases  where  he 
feared  to  hurt  the  conscience  of  the  weak.  Wonderful  to  tell,  at  this 
council  we  find  inconstant  Simon  has  shifted  again,  and  takes  sides 
with  Paul ;  or  if  we  take  a  different  view  of  the  chronology,  and 
suppose  that  Peter  "  feared  them  that  were  of  the  circumcision  "  after 
this  council,  then  his  conduct  was  still  more  inconsistent ;  at  any  rate 
"he  walked  not  uprightly  according  to  the  truth  of  the  gospel." 
There  was  sectarianism  in  the  New  Testament ;  sectarianism  among  the 


132  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

very  apostles,  whom  my  friends  appeal  to  as  infallible.  The  followers  of 
Christ  did  not  catch  the  whole  of  his  spirit,  and  some  of  the  apostles 
became  exclusive,  prudish,  and  mechanical. 

But  yet  they  all  insisted  on  the  divine  life  as  the  one  thing  needful, 
though  they  added  what  suited  their  own  caprice. 

3.  But  in  our  day  the  departure  from  Christ  is  still  more  wide. 
"Were  some  penitent  scribe,  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  or 
some  jailer  in  distress,  to  ask  some  of  our  teachers  of  salvation  "  What 
shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?  "  the  answer  would  not  be  so  short  as  that  of 
Jesus  or  Paul.  He  would  be  told  there  was  no  hope  for  him  unless  he 
believed  certain  doctrines ;  he  must  accept  the  Scriptures  as  a  "  rule 
of  faith  and  practice ;"  must  believe  the  world  was  made  in  six 
days ;  that  man  was  created  pure,  yet  fell  from  that  pureness  ;  that 
Moses  out-juggled  the  magicians  of  Egypt;  that  prophets  predicted 
the  Messiah,  who  was  at  last  born  miraculously,  wrought  miracles,  and 
ascended  to  the  right  hand  of  God.  Now,  even  admitting  in  argument 
that  all  these  things  insisted  on  were  true,  neither  Christ  nor  Paul,  nor 
even  Peter  ever  demanded  assent  to  them. 

You  go  into  the  Catholic  Church,  and  are  told  that  the  Church,  the 
Scriptures,  and  unscriptural  tradition  comprise  the  whole  sum  of  moral 
and  religious  truth.  You  go  into  the  Protestant  Church,  and  the 
magic  circle,  within  which  all  truth  is  supposed  to  be  contained,  is 
drawn  still  narrower.  You  are  told  it  is  all  in  the  Scriptures.  Now 
Christ  said  "Search  the  Scriptures."  Paul  recommends  them  as  pro 
fitable  reading.  But  that  either  tells  you  to  believe  the  Scriptures 
against  reason,  I  have  yet  to  learn.  The  Bible  was  made  for  man,  not 
man  for  the  Bible ;  but  men's  minds  have  been  forced  into  bondage 
to  its  letter. 

Our  teachers  of  commandments  will  give  you  a  scheme  of  theology, 
when  you  ask  the  way  to  be  saved.  In  one  church  it  is  larger,  in 
another  less ;  still  all  the  churches  trust  in  their  creeds,  and  not  in 
the  divine  life.  To  such  a  pass  have,  matters  come,  in  this  respect, 
that  were  Paul  to  come  to  us  now,  in  New  England,  it  is  quite  doubt 
ful  whether  he  could  be  admitted  to  our  churches.  Her  ministers 
would  say  to  him,  "  Paul,  what  thinkest  thou  of  the  Old  Testament  ?" 
He  would  reply  "  It  is  a  law  of  sin  and  death  ;  only  a  schoolmaster's 
assistant  to  lead  us  to  Christ.  I  settled  that  matter  2000  years  ago." 
The  astounded  priest  might  proceed,  "What  thinkest  thou  of  the 
miraculous  birth  of  Christ,  his  miracles,  his  bodily  ascension  to  heaven ; 
of  the  authority  of  the  church  ?  "  The  apostle  would  say,  "  I  know  them 
not ;  I  never  taught  them  to  the  churches  ;  only  the  divine  life  and  the 
resurrection,  these  were  my  doctrines.  Wise  are  you  in  your  genera 
tion  !  Festus  thought  much  learning  had  made  me  mad ;  but  I  never 
heard  the  tithe  of  those  things  whereof  you  are  so  certain,  though  I 
had  visions  and  revelations  of  the  Lord."  The  sum  of  the  whole 
matter  would  be  that  the  great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  who  found  the 
Christians  an  obscure  Jewish  sect,  and  left  them  a  mighty  band  in  all 
great  cities,  was  not  up  to  ihe  level  of  the  times,  and  he  must  not  sit  down 
at  the  Lord's  table.  But  this  is  not  the  worst ;  to  such  a  pitch  has  the 
sectarianism  of  the  church  arrived,  that  should  Christ  himself  return 
to  the  earth,  not  stating  that  he  was  Jesus,  should  he  live  as  before, 
and  apply  the  truths  to  the  time,  he  would  be  abused  in  our  news- 


THEODORE   PARKER.  133 

papers,  called  infidel  and  atheist,  and  only  not  stoned  in  our  streets 
because  we  have  another  way  to  treat  such  men. 

Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  the  greatest  soul  ever  swathed  in  the  flesh ; 
to  redeem  man,  he  took  his  stand  on  righteousness  and  religion; 
on  no  form,  no  tradition,  no  creed.  He  demanded  not  a  belief,  but  a 
lite, — a  life  of  love  to  Grod,  and  love  to  man.  "We  must  come  back  to 
this ;  the  sooner  the  better. 

The  Americans  are  marked  for  their  good  sense;  they  apply  this  to 
moral  things,  awl  so  far  are  successful;  they  apply  it  to  navigation, 
and  outsail  other  nations  on  every  sea;  to  their  manufactures,  and 
weave  and  spin  for  the  antipodes ;  to  their  legislation,  and  have  a  code 
that  comes  nearer  than  any  other  to  the  natural  laws  which  Grod  has 
writ  on  man.  It  yet  remains  for  us  to  apply  good  sense  to  religion ; 
when  this  is  done,  it  will  be  of  very  little  importance  what  a  man 
thinks  of  the  Old  Testament  or  the  New  Testament,  so  long  as  he 
loves  man  as  himself,  and  God  above  all.  Then  the  difference  be 
tween  the  creed  of  Hopkins  and  Edwards,  the  dogmas  about  the 
Miracles,  the  Ascension,  the  Resurrection,  even,  and  the  inspiration  of 
the  apostles,  will  be  subjects  of  speculation  for  the  curious,  but  which 
have  as  little  to  do  with  our  religion,  as  a  farthing  candle  has  with 
the  shining  of  the  noonday  sun. 

If  we  thus  apply  our  good  sense,  Mr.  President,  we  have  but  two 
things  to  fear,  the  flesh  and  the  devil ;  but  so  long  as  we  have  the 
flesh  in  the  world,  and  the  devil  in  the  Church,  there  is  much  to  fear. 
(Expressions  of  agreement.) 

At  a  subsequent  stage  of  the  discussion  Mr.  Parker  continued 
his  remarks.  The  reported  interruptions  and  remarks  of  other 
members  are  here  omitted. 

We  were  invited  to  establish  the  largest  Christian  liberty ;  but  this 
resolution*  gives  permission  to  any  individual  to  infringe  that  liberty 

by  imposing  a  test. 

*  *  *  *  * 

There  is  a  distance  heaven-wide  between  Christ  and  the  apostles. 
If  they  are  presented  as  being  equally  high  authority,  what  shall 
we  do  when  we  recognize  the  difference  in  their  teachings  ?  Then 
again  \ve  find  a  difference  between  the  apostles  themselves :  one  waa 
a  thousand  miles  from  the  other.  (True — amen.) 

*  *  *  *  * 

A  gentleman  who  has  just  spoken,  considers  it  a  heinous  offence  for 
a  minister  of  the  gospel  to  support  himself  otherwise  than  by  preach 
ing.  He  will  no  doubt  permit  me  also  to  quote  "  the  apostle,"  who 
held  a  different  opinion  on  this  point.  "  I  have  coveted  no  man's 
silver,  or  gold,  or  apparel,  yea,  ye  yourselves  know  that  these  hands 
have  ministered  unto  my  necessities,"  &c. 

Another  speaker  thinks  it  not  altogether  safe  or  sufficient,  to  rely 
on  Jesus  for  authority  in  ecclesiastical  matters,  but  prefers  the  autho 
rity  of  the  disciples  to  that  of  the  master, — if  I  do  not  misapprehend 

*  Resolved— That  for  an  individual  Christian,  or  a  church,  to  require  more  of  a  per 
son,  as  a  condition  of  his  or  her  fellowship,  than  what  they  deem  necessary  to  salration, 
is  an  assumption  unwarrantable  in  its  nature,  and  schismatical  in  its  tendency. 


134?  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

him.  He  thinks  the  apostles  were  the  "  foundation  of  the  Church." 
Now  Paul  thought  otherwise,  for  he  says,  "  Who  then  is  Paul,  and  who 
is  Apollos,  but  ministers,  (i.  e.  servants),  by  whom  ye  believed  ?  I  have 
planted,  Apollos  watered,  but  God  gave  the  increase  ;  so  then  neither 
is  he  that  planteth  any  thing,  nor  he  that  watereth.  Other  foundation  can 
no  man  lay,  than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Jesus  Christ."  "  Therefore  let  no 
man  glory  in  man,  for  all  things  are  yours,  and  you  are  Christ's,  and 
Christ  is  God'a." 

Again :  my  worthy  brother  assumed  that  the  apostle^  were  inspired; 
this  will  be  granted  on  all  hands.  But  he  assumed  they  possessed  a 
perfect  and  infallible  inspiration,  which  cannot  be  granted.  It  must 
be  denied  that  they  had  the  inspiration  requisite  to  make  them  masters 
of  conscience,  reason,  and  faith,  in  all  coming  time.  I  deny  that 
they  had  this  inspiration,  or  even  claimed  to  have  it.  If  they 
had  this  inspiration,  it  may  be  proved  from  the  New  Testament, 
or  from  some  other  source.  But  the  authority  of  tradition,  oral  or 
written,  does  not  establish  the  fact.  If  we  look  at  the  New  Testa 
ment,  we  find  nowhere  any  claim  set  up  by  the  apostles  to  such 
inspiration.  But  supposing  they  were  too  modest  to  claim  an  honour 
they  really  desired.  Let  us  look  at  the  facts.  It  can  be  shown 
very  clearly  that  they  were  not  thus  inspired  perfectly,  so  as  to  be 
incapable  of  mistake.  If  thus  inspired,  they  must  have  agreed  in 
doctrine.  Now  it  is  quite  plain  they  did  not  agree.  If  they 
were  thus  inspired,  why  was  the  first  council  at  Jerusalem  called  to 
deliberate  and  decide  what  should  be  done  ?  One  man  perfectly 
inspired  needs  no  council,  but  is  wise  as  a  whole  synod  of  inspired 
men.  I  deny  not  that  the  apostles  were  inspired,  like  other  good  and 
wise  men,  in  various  degrees.  But  I  do  deny  that  they  were  so 
inspired  as  never  to  commit  a  fault.  I  do  deny  that  Peter  was  inspired 
by  God  to  dissemble,  or  Paul  to  curse  Alexander  the  copper-smith. 

A  worthy  brother,  some  time  ago,  in  a  manner  no  less  significant 
than  touching,  compared  the  Christian  Church  to  Samson  going  down 
to  Timnath,  and  slaying  a  lion.  I  wish  he  had  carried  out  the  com 
parison,  it  is  quite  felicitous  and  suggestive.  Samson  was  a  Nazarite 
from  his  birth,  as  the  story  reads  ;  his  locks  were  not  to  be  shorn,  nor 
was  strong  drink  to  pass  his  lips ;  so  long  as  he  obeyed  God  he  was 
invincible.  So  is  it  with  the  Church ;  so  long  as  it  was  true  to  the 
law  of  God,  so  long  was  it  invincible ;  but  when  it  yielded  to  that 
Delilah  of  a  Jewish  organization,  with  a  lust  for  power  over  men's 
freedom,  and  drank  deeply  the  wine  of  pride,  and  forgot  there  was  a 
God,  it  was  shorn  of  the  locks  of  its  strength,  its  eyes  were  put  out, 
itself  bound  to  toil  at  the  mill  of  its  enemies,  and  happy  will  it  be  if 
it  destroys  at  last  the  temple  of  its  foes. 

I  believe  most  fully  in  inspiration.  There  have  always  been  inspired 
men ;  in  all  times,  in  every  land.  The  line  of  apostles  reaches  down 
through  all  the  ages.  The  tide  of  inspiration  sets  through  the  world, 
and  such  souls  as  Numa  and  Solon,  Moses  and  Solomon,  Paul  and 
John,  have  drank  largely  in  the  Holy  Spirit;  and  each,  as  he  appeared, 
was  seen  in  conflict  with  the  age  on  which  he  shone, — and  each  was 
scorned  and  rejected  of  those  whose  selfishness  obscured  their  vision  : 
yet  each,  in  the  after-age,  came  to  be  thought  a  demigod  or  an  apostle 
by  those  to  whom  his  teachings  were  found  to  be  a  blessing,  and  then 


THEODORE   PARKER.  135 

his  merest  words  became  injunctions,  from  which  it  was  heresy  to 
dissent,  and  his  most  careless  modes  of  life  became  the  statute-laws 
for  the  lives  of  mankind.  Men  organized  upon  them ;  and  then  the 
spirit  of  a  true  life  began  to  die  out, — and  men  looked  to  these  dead 
forms  from  the  depths  of  human  suffering  for  comfort,  and  found  it 
not.  But,  still  in  their  distress  they  hovered  around  the  lifeless  image 
as  we  have  seen  orphan  girls  cling  to  the  garments  of  their  dead  mother, 
as  if  these  poor  relics  could  still  give  shelter  and  consolation.  Then 
came  Jesus ;  and  his  was  a  larger  soul.  He  saw  all  through  the 
conditions  of  humanity.  He  saw  the  poor  suffering,  man  fallen,  and 
the  yoke  of  olden  time  pressing  heavily  upon  him,  so  that  he  might 
not  rise.  And  Jesus  said  to  him,  "  Why  do  you  not  look  to  God  ? 
Why  will  you  go  back  to  Moses  ?  Here  is  something  greater  than 
Moses.  Why  will  you  talk  of  Solomon  ?  A  greater  than  Solomon  is 
here.  Why  cling  to  dead  forms  ?  Why  not  trust  to  the  living 
spirit  ?  Why  not  take  religion  at  first-hand  ?  "  And  then  they  cried 
out  against  him,  for  destroying  their  religion.  "  Why  do  you  not  fast, 
they  said,  and  why  do  you  not  preach  Moses  ?  "  And  he  replied,  "  Why 
don't  you  put  new  wine  into  old  bottles?  because  the  bottles  will 
burst."  He  had  not  come  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil.  He  had  nothing 
to  do  with  their  organizations.  He  let  those  who  would  not  come  out 
of  their  shadows,  sit  there.  He  came  not  to  tear  down  their  cherished 
temples,  but  he  knew  that  they  must  fall  at  the  voice  of  teachings  like 
his.  And  ever,  when  the  true  man  appears,  the  false  ones  disappear 
before  him ;  and  when  Jesus  came,  the  dwellers  in  the  old  order  of 
tfeings,  shrieked  and  fled,  like  owls  and  bats  at  the  coming  in  of 
morning. 

At  only  thirty  years  of  age,  they  scourged  him  and  put  him  to 
death.  But  his  truth  lived,  and  dwelt  in  the  hearts  of  those  poor, 
plain,  humble  fishermen,  till,  through  their  blood  and  sacrifice, 
Christianity  came  to  be  accounted  a  religion, — and  its  votaries  went 
on  spending  and  being  spent.  Men  gathered  themselves  everywhere 
together  in  its  name,  at  Ephesus,  at  Antioch,  at  Corinth,  and  at 
Rome ;  till  from  thence  it  ascended  the  throne  of  the  world,  and  cities 
and  broad  realms  bent  beneath  it.  Then  the  love  of  power  quenched 
its  first  true  spirit,  and  now  we  hear  men  talk  about  its  dcors!  and 
quote  the  18th  chapter  of  Matthew !  A  church !  why,  what  does 
church  mean  there  ?  Simply  a  gathering  of  men ;  nor  can  you  find 
any  mention  of  a  church  in  the  sense  in  which  the  word  is  now  uuder- 
stood,  in  the  whole  range  of  Christian  literature,  from  St.  James  to 
Hildebrand. 

What  is  the  church  now  ?  Paul  says, .  "  Where  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  is,  there  is  liberty."  But  where  the  spirit  of  the  church  is, 
there  is  slavery !  The  Holy  Spirit  says,  Be  a  true  soul !  live  a  divine 
life !  The  church  demands  a  belief,  and  not  a  divine  life !  The  best 
men  come  to  her,  and  find  no  life — no  power ;  only 

The  President  announced  that  Mr.  Parker's  time  had  expired. 

To  go  and  confer  with  these  men  and  women,  and  fraternally 
consider  their  views,  required  a  good  deal  of  modest  humanity 
in  those  days.  It  was  quite  enough  that  some  of  them  wore 


136  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

their  hair  long ;  such  a  symbol  of  radical  infidelity  was  more 
damaging  to  their  reputation  than  a  disregard  for  the  Sabbath 
and  all  scriptural  ordinances.  The  newspapers  ridiculed  those 
singularities  which  always  appear  among  people  with  little 
culture  who  undertake  a  new  theology.  Books  and  free  inter 
course  would  be  fatal  to  these  little  pomposities,  which  are  signs 
of  isolation  oftener  than  of  egotism.  But  few  people  credited 
that  a  tender  and  devout  spirit  urged  many  of  these  Gome-Outers 
to  separate  from  the  Church. 

Mr.  Parker  had  a  native  love  for  man.  It  was  not  an 
abstract  recognition  of  new  phrases  of  Equality  and  Fraternity. 
His  nature  was  not  of  the  cool  and  serene  kind  which  prefers 
truths  to  people,  and  would  never  invite  the  latter  except  under 
compulsion.  Every  scholarly  attainment  only  seemed  to  widen 
the  channels  for  his  human  pulse  :  it  mantled  in  every  gift,  it 
beat  to  shatter  all  doctrines  which  degraded  or  depreciated  man. 
He  had  all  Dr.  Channing's  reverence  for  human  nature,  with  a 
prompt,  practical  friendliness,  gentle  to  visit  the  humble,  terrible 
to  defend  them.  Whenever  he  found  a  truth,  he  placed  it  in 
the  glittering  row  which  sits  upon  the  rugged  forehead  of 
humankind  :  there  it  looked  handsomer  to  him  than  in 
gesthetic  and  transcendental  cabinets.  For  all  things  look  best 
where  they  belong. 

What,  indeed,  was  the  whole  movement  of  his  mind  at  this 
time,  but  that  act  of  highest  and  most  Christ-like  humanity,  a 
liberating  of  the  Human  from  the  Conventional  !  As  fast  as  his 
own  strong  intentions  struggled  through  scriptural  views  and 
theological  finalities,  he  recognized  them,  not  as  his  own  but  as 
Man's.  He  possessed  them  in  virtue  of  his  membership  in  the 
great  society  of  men  and  women,  whose  hearts  the  Infinite 
Father  directly  nourishes  with  truth  and  love.  No  distant  and 
fastidious  conceptions  were  for  him.  He  could  not  belong  to  a 
clique  any  more  than  to  a  sect.  His  very  distinction  as  a 
radical  thinker  was  his  conformity  to  absolute  and  universal 
truths.  His  unsparing  criticisms  were  efforts  to  rejoin  his 
comrades,  to  level  the  pale-work  and  text-hedges,  and  let  out 
the  poor  huddled  creatures  into  the  common  where  the  untaxed 
food  grows  for  all. 

So  he  instinctively  drew  near  whenever  he  saw  people  gather. 
No  pride  of  books,  or  luxury  of  fine  thinking,  held  him  back 
from  seeing  what  his  brethren  were  about.  There  must  be 


THEODORE    PARKER.  137 

something  going  on,  he  surmised,  else  there  would  not  be  a 
crowd.  Mere  stupidity,  folly  and  impiety  cannot  convene ; 
some  natural  want  makes  folly  cohere  long  enough  to  be  marked 
and  exposed.  Yet  he  did  not  confuse  movements  in  favor  of  a 
new  theology  with  those  in  the  interest  of  the  old  :  it  was  for 
the  sake  of  the  human  nature  that  is  found  both  in  a  liberal 
convention  and  in  a  Calvinistic  revival  that  he  preferred  the 
former.  He  loved  to  be  in  the  company  of  hope,  and  was  more 
tolerant  of  ignorance  and  error  where  he  saw  the  work  of 
reconstruction  going  on.  But  he  had  a  very  quick  and 
humorous  eye  for  the  knavish  little  parasites  who  infest  a 
growing  truth  ;  he  did  not  relish  new  hypocrisy  any  better 
than  the  old. 

This  was  the  human  temper  which  he  afterwards  brought  to 
the  consideration  of  Spiritualism  and  Mormonism.  They  were 
new  movements  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  challenge  the  atten 
tion.  He  undertook  a  deliberate  examination,  to  weigh  their 
good  against  their  evil,  and  especially  to  understand  their  original 
determining  impulse.  Camp  meetings  and  revivals  he  and  all 
the  world  knew  enough  about,  the  good  and  the  evil  which 
they  did  to  the  soul.  The  new  thing  deserved  to  be  known  as 
well,  to  become  the  object  of  a  human  observation.  And  when, 
as  in  the  case  of  Spiritualism,  he  found  a  theology  thoroughly 
anti-Calvinistic  in  every  respect,  a  reassertion  of  the  universal 
instinct  for  a  life  after  death,  and  a  vehement  impulse  to  emanci 
pate  souls  from  degrading  notions  of  a  vindictive  God,  who,  if 
He  prepares  immortality  at  all,  prepares  it  as  an  opportunity  for 
the  damnation  of  the  greater  number  of  His  own  children,  he  be 
stowed  his  hearty  sympathy  upon  the  men  and  women,  while 
he  told  them  frankly,  that  their  supernaturalism  was  no  better 
than  the  old  kind,  and  that  though  the  evidence  in  favor  of 
their  miracles  was  as  good  as  that  in  favor  of  any,  their  liberal 
thought  and  feeling  would  be  impaired  by  their  inclination  for 
the  marvellous. 

EXTRACT    FROM   A   LETTER. 

All  the  world  and  "the  rest  of  mankind"  is  talking  about  "spiri 
tualism,"  "rappers,"  "tippers,"  "  writers,"  " talkers,"  &c.  There  are 
many  strange  thiDgs  testified  to  by  some  of  the  soundest  and  shrewdest 
of  men ;  things  which  I  cannot  explain  as  yet.  But  I  do  not  accept 
the  hypothesis  that  they  are  the  work  of  "  SPIRITS,"  either  the  souls 
of  dead  men,  or  "  angels" "  good  or  bad.  I  know  nothing  to  justify  the 


138  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

"spiritual"  hypothesis.  I  am  not  successful  in  my  investigations ;  I 
drive  off  the  "  spirits  "  by  looking  at  the  table.  I  once— and  once 
only — got  a  response  from  a  "  spirit ; "  that  was  of  a  man  whom  I  knew 
to  be  safe  and  sound  on  terra  firma  here  below.  (1  have  seen  him  since.) 
I  got  any  answer  that  I  wanted  to  get.  If  I  had  time  I  should  like  to 
look  into  the  matter  a  little  further.  But  scientific  men  give  it  the  go 
by — which  seems  scarcely  right.  It  does  not  now  appear  in  Cathdlic 
districts  I  am  told.  Is  it  so  ?  They  have  enough  to  excite  their 
marvellousness  without  tipping  tables ! 

EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  JOURNAL. 

THE  EARLY  CHRISTIANS. — All  I  read  of  them  convinces  me  more  of 
their  noble  character,  aim  and  life.  But  I  see  their  limitations.  They 
were  superstitious,  formal  (at  least  after  the  middle  of  the  second  cen 
tury,  and  perhaps  also  in  the  apostles'  times,)  the  letter  burthened 
them.  But  they  were  full  of  the  noble  manly  spirit.  Their  ascetic 
doctrines  of  marriage,  dress,  amusement,  education,  I  dislike,  vastly. 
They  laid  too  much  stress  on  baptism,  the  eucharist — giving  the  latter 
to  men  to  keep  at  home,  carry  in  their  pocket,  &c.,  gave  it  to  little 
children  just  after  baptism,  put  it  in  the  mouth  of  dead  people,  and 
the  like. 

But  how  they  died — how  they  prayed — how  they  lived  !  "We  cannot 
yet  atford  to  criticise  these  men.  Certainly  they  were  not  gentlemen, 
but  they  were  men.  The  wonder  is  that  being  so  much,  they  saw  no 
more.  One  thinks  if  Seneca  could  have  been  Christian,  he  would  have 
seen  truth  as  Schleiermacher  and  De  Wette  saw  it.  But  who  knows  ! 

The  early  Christians  were  not  literary  men — none  of  them.  They 
spoke  because  they  had  something  they  could  not  help  saying.  So  the 
spirit  found  very  vehement  but  very  imperfect  utterance.  Culture  did 
nothing  for  them  (this  with  exceptions — Justin  Martyr,  Clemens, 
Alexaudriuus,  Origen,  &c.)  Inspiration  did  all,  so  there  was  no 
grace. 

HERETICS. — They  began  very  early.  Indeed  we  find  them  in  the  times 
of  the  apostles.  In  Jesus  you  are  in  the  Pleroma  of  light;  step  into 
the  apostles,  it  is  already  evening,  and  the  light  is  behind  you.  Take 
another  step,  and  you  are  in  fathomless  darkness.  Heretics  have 
always  been  treated  as  the  worst  of  men.  Imaginary  doctrines  have 
been  ascribed  to  them,  immoral  ceremonies ;  they  have  been  charged 
with  sins  of  the  blackest  dye.  This  treatment  the  Jews  received  of  the 
Gentiles,  the  Christians  of  the  Heathen,  the  Heretics  from  the  Catholic 
Church  ;  the  Protestants — in  a  word,  the  Come-Outers  of  all  ages  have 
been  abused.  Jerome  says  the  heretics,  even  it'  they  lead  blameless 
and  beautiful  lives,  have  only  the  image  and  shadow  of  virtue.  Ter- 
tullian  chides  Marcion,  after  the  fashion  of  Dr.  South,  with  his  God 
who  is  not  to  be  feared ;  and  asks  him  why,  if  he  does  not  fear  God,  he 
does  not  go  to  the  theatre,  and  bawdy-houses,  and  game  and  drink  ? 
Philastor  and  Augustine  censure  some  heretics  who  would  think  the 
planets,  sun,  moon  and  Stars  were  worlds,  because  they  denied  the 
resurrection  of  the  flesh.  Christ  was  put  to  death  as  a  heretic.  The 
treatment  which  the  Gome-Outers,  and  some  others,  Mr.  Dyer,  <&c., 
have  lately  received,  shows  me  how  the  heretics  were  treated  in 


THEODORE   PARKER.  139 

all  times,  and  how  much  truth  I  am  to  expect  in  Irenaeus,  Tertullian, 
Epiphanius,  Philastor  and  Jerome,  when  they  treat  of  heretics. 

1.  A  bad  name  is  given  them. 

2.  Some  one  is  discovered  or  invented'  who  has  the  same  name  and 
very  dangerous  doctrines  and  a  wicked  life.     This  is  blazoned  to  the 
world,  and  then, 

3.  The  heretic  is  charged  with  the  same  doctrines  and  life ;  and  so  it 
goes. 

Truth  is  unchangeable,  but  orthodoxy  and  heresy  vary  with  each 
country  and  every  age.  The  world  seems  to  defend  doctrines  in  the 
inverse  ratio  of  their  value,  as  mothers  love  best  their  weak  and  sickly 
children. 

Nothing  will  ever  save  us  but  a  wide,  generous  toleration.  I  must 
tolerate  and  comfort  my  brother,  though  1  think  him  in  error,  though  I 
know  him  to  be  in  error.  I  must  tolerate  his  ignorance,  even  his  sin — 
yes,  his  intolerance.  Here  the  only  safe  rule  is,  if  some  one  has  done 
you  a  wrong,  to  resolve  on  the  spot  never  to  do  that  wrong  to  him  or 
any  one  else.  It  is  easy  to  tolerate  a  man  if  you  know  he  is  a  fool  and 
quite  in  the  wrong.  But  we  must  tolerate  him  when  we  know  he  is 
not  a  fool,  and  not  altogether  in  the  wrong. 


Mr.  Parker's  speculative  freedom  brought  him  into  suspicion 
as  early  as  1838  : — 

Nov.  13.— A  rare  thing  has  happened  to  me  to-day ;  simply  this — 
a  certain  Mrs.  — —  pronounces  me  an  infidel  in  good'set  speech.  The 
reason  is,  that  I  do  not  think  as  she  does  of  the  authority  of  Jesus. 
She  thinks  he  has  a  different  authority  from  that  of  the  truths  he 
taught ;  therefore,  that  we  are  bound  to  obey  him,  even  if  the  doctrine 
in  question  does  not  seem  true  to  us.  I  think  Jesus  Christ  is  to  be 
reverenced  and  obeyed  solely  for  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious 
truth  which  he  brought  to  light  by  his  doctrines  and  life.  If  sentences 
of  his  did  not  seem  true  to  me,  1  should  reject  them  ;  for  I  can  accept 
no  opinion  which  annuls  my  own  reason. 

I  honour  and  revere  Christ  more,  perhaps,  than  she,  though  not  in 
the  same  way.  Afterwards,  she  retracted  the  offensive  term,  "  infidel ; " 
but  this  does  not  mend  the  matter.  I  something  doubt  that  my  sermons 
breathe  the  spirit  of  infidelity. 

But  all  this  shows  me — what  needed  no  proof  before — how  much 
easier  it  is  to  censure  another,  and  damn  him  with  harsh  names,  than 
to  amend  one's  own  life,  or  even  to  apprehend  the  difference  between 
his  creed  and  your  own. 

May,  1839.— I  am  often  struck  with  the  great  freedom  and  boldness 
of  Christ's  remarks.  The  Jews  venerated  manna.  He  told  them  it 
did  not  come  down  from  heaven.  They  superstitiously  honoured  the 
sabbath.  He  said  it  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  it.  He  said  that 
one  greater  than  all  the  old  prophets  was  inferior  to  the  least  of  his 
disciples. 

Consider  the  surpassing  boldness  with  which  he  rebuked  men  and 
taught  doctrines. 


140  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONBENCE   OP 

Here  is  a  boldly  chalked  study,  to  serve  in  the  composition  of 
his  mind : — 

June. — How  much  do  we  idealize  Christ  ?  Yery  much,  I  suspect ; 
I  look  on  the  Christ  of  tradition  as  a  very  different  being  from  the 
ideal  Christ.  The  latter  is  the  highest  form  of  man  we  can  conceive 
of— a  perfect  incarnation  of  the  "Word.  The  former,  a  man,  perhaps,  of 
passions  not  always  under  command,  who  had  little  faults  and  weak 
nesses  that  would  offend  us.  His  thoughts  came  like  mine ;  and  he 
was  sometimes  in  doubt,  perhaps  contradicted  himself,  and  taught 
things  not  perfectly  consistent  with  reason,  or,  at  best,  gave  utterance 
to  crude  notions.  From  the  nature  of  the  case,  he  could  not  do  other 
wise.  Thought  is  life  generalized ;  it  arrives,  therefore,  only  as  we 
live — so,  from  year  to  year  and  day  to  day,  Christ  must  have  generalized 
better  as  he  lived  more.  His  plans  were  evidently  not  perfectly  formed 
at  first.  He  fluctuates ;  does  not  know  whether  he  shall  renounce 
Moses  or  not.  He  evidently  went  on  without  any  plan  of  action  ;  and, 
like  Luther  at  the  Eeformation,  effected  more  than  he  designed.  At 
first,  perhaps,  he  meditated  simply  a  reform  of  Mosaism,  but  finally 
casts  off  all  tradition,  and  starts  a  fresh  soul. 

His  power  of  miracle-working  is  an  element  of  the  soul.  It  is  a 
vein  running  through  all  history,  coming  near  the  surface  of  life  only 
in  the  most  elevated  characters,  and  in  their  most  rapt  states  of  mind. 
So  the  central  rocks  only  crop  out  in  mountains.  We  all  feel  this 

miracle-power  ideally  (A says  actually  likewise,  and  perhaps  he  is 

right ;  I  can  feel  something  of  it,  supposing  it  is  what  E calls 

demoniacal  influence).  Jesus,  a  greater  man  than  ever  lived  before  or 
since,  lived  it  actually  ;  his  miracles,  therefore,  were  natural  acts,  not 
contrary  to  outward  nature,  but  above  it. 

His  inspiration  I  can  understand  still  better.  There  can  be  but  one 
kind  of  inspiration ;  it  is  the  intuition  of  truth.  And  but  one  mode  of 
inspiration;  it  is  the  conscious  presence  of  the  highest,  either  as 
beauty,  justice,  usefulness,  holiness,  or  truth — the  felt  and  perceived 
presence  of  absolute  being  infusing  itself  into  me.  But  there  may  be 
infinite  degrees  of  inspiration.  The  degree  depends  on  the  being  of 
the  man  to  be  inspired ;  a  noble  being  is  capable  of  more,  a  smaller 
soul  of  less.  It  depends  also  on  the  faithfulness  of  the  finite  soul.  It 
may  perfectly  obey  the  conditions  on  which  it  is  obtainable,  then  it 
will  have  all  the  inspiration  it  is  capable  of  at  that  stage  of  its  growth  ; 
or  it  may  do  this  imperfectly,  when  it  will  have  less.  It  depends,  then, 
OH  the  finite  soul  itself,  whether  or  not,  and  to  what  degree  it  will  be 
inspired.  Hence,  in  all  times  we  see  instances  of  souls,  humble  by 
nature,  obtaining  a  higher  degree  of  inspiration  than  others,  their 
superiors  in  innate  capabilities,  and  so  becoming  the  superior  beings. 
Such  were  many  prophets,  of  the  Old  Testament ;  such  was  Bunyan. 
Now  Christ,  I  fancy,  was  one  of  the  greatest  souls  born  into  the  world 
of  time ;  and  did  also  more  perfectly  than  any  other  man  fulfil  the 
conditions  of  inspiration ;  so  the  spirit  dwelt  in  him  bodily.  His  was 
the  highest  inspiration — his  the  divinest  revelation.  But  this  must  be 
said  of  actualities,  not  of  possibilities.  It  is  folly,  even  impiety,  to  say 
that  God  cannot  create  a  greater  soul  than  that  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  141 

"Who  shall  attempt  to  foreshorten  God,  and  close  the  gates  of  time 
against  him,  declaring  that  no  more  of  his  spirit  can  be  by  any  possi 
bility  incarnated  ?  Jesus  was  cut  off  at  an  early  age — the  period  of 
blossom,  not  fruitage.  What  are  thirty  years  ?  'How  much  could  he 
have  lived  ?  All  the  great  works  of  reflective  genius  have  appeared 
after  five-and-forty.  It  is  only  by  long  practice  and  much  life  that  the 
soul's  instruments — thought  and  language — are  matured.  The  reflective 
had  scarcely  began  to  dawn  in  him ;  the  spontaneous  alone  was  active. 
He,  then,  is  not  a  model  for  us  in  the  reflective  powers,  only  in  the 
spontaneous.  Why  may  we  not  see  a  soul  uniting  them  all,  and  so 
revealing  manhood  in  a  higher  form — I  will  not  say  the  highest,  that  I 
know  not  of— by  a  revelation  nobler  and  more  perfect  than  his  ? 

The  Christ  of  tradition  I  shall  preach  down,  one  of  these  days,  to 
the  extent  of  my  ability.  I  will  not  believe  the  driving  beasts  out  of 
the  temple  with  a  whip  ;  *  the  command  to  Peter  to  catch  a  fish ;  still 
less  the  cursing  the  fig-tree,  and  the  old  wives'  fables  about  the  Ascen 
sion.  His  predictions  of  his  death  I  have  reason  to  doubt ;  but  I  know 
not  but  they  are  real.  He,  doubtless,  was  mistaken  in  his  predictions 
of  the  end  of  the  world,  or  rather  his  disciples  were ;  for  the  predic 
tion  is  manifest  and  its  failure  obvious.  The  ideal  Christ  is  what  we 
are  to  preach ;  and,  perhaps,  we  shall  not  need  the  Gospels  much  in 
delineating  him.  Yet  I  should  be  sorry  to  lose  even  the  little  they 
afford  us,  were  it  not  for  the  lamentable  matter  they  connect  therewith. 
Christianity  is  much  indebted  to  Paul.  He  freed  it  from  its  narrow 
ness.  Was  it  limited  in  Christ,  or  did  its  limits  come  from  his  disciples  ? 
Christ  seems  himself  to  fluctuate — once  he  refuses  to  heal  a  stranger- 
woman's  child,  as  not  being  part  of  his  mission.  But  he  is  afterwards 
surprised  to  find  a  greater  faith  than  in  his  own  nation.  I  doubt  that 
he  designed  it  to  be  universal ;  yet  many  passages  towards  the  end  of 
his  life  favour  it. 

Nov.  1839.— Saw  Bancroft  at  his  house.  He  spoke  with  delight  of 
the  intense  desire  of  the  "commonality"  for  spiritual  truths.  They 
will  not  rest  their  Christianity  on  something  outside.  He  agreed  with 
me  that  the  old  mode  of  presenting  religion  has  ceased  to  have  any 
effect,  and  that  the  Church  needs  to  be  more  democratic,  but  sees  not 
the  "foz0,"  an  important  category  in  this  connection. 

He  showed  me  a  passage  in  Spinoza  which  shocked  me,  where  he 
goes  ^  farther  than  Machiavelli,  and  denies  the  obligatoriness  of  a 
promise  farther  than  it  can  allay  fear  or  stimulate  the  hope  of  the 
promisee,  and  adds,  the  promiser  is  a  great  fool  to  think  otherwise. 

Bancroft  thinks  Jonathan  Edwards  was  the  great  man  of  New 
England.  The  centre  with  Edwards,  I  said,  was  the  Bible,  and  with 
Spinoza  the  sottl.  B.  says  no,  the  centre  with  both  is  God ;  the  Bible 
does  not  hamper  Edwards,  nor  does  any  human  authority.  He  looks 
through  these. 

TO  MISS   ELIZABETH   P.    PEABODY 

August  30,  1839. 

I  should  make  an  apology,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  for  not  writing  before, 
were  it  not  contrary  to  my  theory,  and  practice,  also,  to  make  apologies 
at  any  time.  It  has  not  been  lack  of  inclination,  but  of  leisure,  you 

*  This  sentimental  touch  disappeared  in  the  exigencies  of  his  own  protesting,  and  the 
scourge  of  small  cords  seemed  less  mythological. 


142  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE  OF 

will  do  me  the  kindness  to  suppose.  Both  L.  and  myself  were  highly 
edified  by  your  letter.  I  am  highly  grateful  for  the  advice  you  offer, 
and  doubt  not  it  will  bear  fruit.  I  think  you  have  formed  a  very  just 
estimate  of  L. ;  indeed,  you  had  done  so  before,  but  she  will  not  admit 
the  fact.  Thinks  you  make  her  too  good,  and  the  like.  Touching  my 
becoming  a  martyr,  as  you  and  Miss  Burley  conjecture,  I  think  I  shall 
have  no  occasion  for  the  requisite  spirit,  even  if  I  had  that  article  in  as 
great  abundance  as  John  Knox  or  John  Rogers.  I  have  precious  little 
of  the  spirit  of  a  martyr ;  but  inasmuch  as  I  fear  no  persecution,  I 
fancy  I  can  "  say  my  say,"  and  go  on  smoothly  ;  but  if  not,  why — well,  I 
can  go  roughly.  I  trust  I  have  enough  of  the  Spirit  always  to  speak 
the  truth,  be  the  consequence  what  it  may.  It  seems  to  me  men  often 
trouble  themselves  about  the  consequences  of  an  opinion,  or  action, 
much  more  than  is  necessary.  Having  settled  the  question  that  an 
opinion  is  true  and  an  action  perfectly  right,  what  have  you  and  I  to 
do  with  consequences  ?  They  belong  to  God,  not  to  man.  He  has  as 
little  to  do  with  these  as  with  the  rising  of  the  sun  or  the  flow  of  the 
tide.  Doubtless  men  said  to  Galileo,  "  Your  system  may  be  true, — but 
only  think  of  the  consequences  that  follow !  "What  will  you  do  with 
them  ?  "  The  sage  probably  replied,  "  I  will  let  them  alone.  To  do 
duty  and  speak  truth  is  my  office ;  God  takes  care  of  consequences." 
I  am  sorry  you  and  that  wise  woman,  Miss  B.,  should  form  so  high  an 
opinion  of  me,  for  all  my  subsequent  life  will  do  nothing  but  cancel  it, 
and  show  on  what  an  airy  base  your  kind  feelings  have  erected  an 
imaginary  character. 

Dec.  4. — Mr.  O.  C.  Everett  came  to  see  me  to-day.  He  said  some 
good  things — to  wit,  about  speaking  ill  of  others.  He  thinks  one 
ought  never  to  say  of  another  what  he  would  be  ashamed  to  say  in  his 
presence.  But  this  is  wrong.  I  should  be  ashamed  to  praise  as  well 
as  to  censure.  A  better  rule  would  be — 1.  Say  nothing  ill  of  any  one 
unless  certain  it  is  true ;  2.  Say  nothing  ill,  unless  certain  that  no  evil 
or  selfish  motive  animates  you. 

He  thinks  also  that  I  confound  the  attributes  with  the  personality 
of  God.  But  how  can  it  be?  where  is  the  difference  between  the 
two  ?  Is  God  separate  or  separable  from  his  wisdom,  justice,  or  love  ? 
Surely  not. 

Jan.  2,  1840. — Preached  the  Thursday  lecture  on  Inspiration.  After 

it  was  over,  Dr. came  up  to  me,  while  conversing  with  Dr.  Erancis 

and  Mr.  Cunningham,  and  said,  "  When  you  write  about  Ralph  Cud- 
worth,*  I  read  ye  and  like  ye ;  but  when  you  talk  about  future  Christs, 
I  can't  bear  ye.*"  There  was  a  great  deal  more  of  the  same  kind.  He 
called  me  "  impious,"  whereat  I  was  so  grieved,  that  I  left  him,  not  in 
anger,  but  in  sorrow,  and  went  weeping  through  the  street ;  but,  at 
length  bethought  me  of  Ellis,  and  went  to  see  him,  and  so  dried  my 
tears. 

This  is  not  the  temper  of  an  over-conscious  man,  who  delibe 
rately  hatches  new  opinions,  and  hastens  to  annoy  the  general 
convictions.  His  mind  worked  in  an  impersonal  manner,  and 

*  Article  in  the  January  number,  1840,  of  the  Christian  Examiner,  upon  Cud  worth's 
Intellectual  System. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  143 

he  never  calculated  the  effect  of  his  opinions,  or  of  the  plain 
speech  into  which  they  flowed.  He  was  often  very  much  asto 
nished  at  the  effect  of  passages  which  slipped  from  his  pen  with 
no  design  beyond  that  of  putting  his  thought  into  clear  and 
strong  expression.  So  he  was  surprised,  and  sometimes  a  little 
hurt,  when  his  friends  told  him  that  his  satire  occasionally 
degenerated  into  sarcasm.  It  never  entered  his  mind  to  be  sar 
castic  or  sneering.  He  vindicated  the  use  of  all  legitimate  intel 
lectual  weapons  to  defend  truth  and  attack  error.  He  employed 
the  whole  of  his  mind  to  enforce  all  his  convictions,  backed  by 
health  and  homely  vigour.  He  grew  in  a  way  to  be  plain  and 
muscular  in  the  performance  of  his  function  as  teacher  and  libe 
rator  of  men's  minds.  And  he  put  forth  his  strength  in  such 
instinctive  fashion,  under  the  dominion  of  such  an  earnest  motive 
and  such  absorbed  convictions,  that  he  could  neither  stop  to 
think  of  his  style  nor  to  dilute  his  eagerness.  There  is  some 
times  a  want  of  taste,  but  no  malice,  in  the  speech  which  his 
fiery  honesty  had  mastered.  His  whole  language,  with  its 
glories  and  its  faults,  is  himselfj  in  unflawed  integrity,  un- 
tampered  with  by  second  thoughts,  the  characteristic  product  of 
such  education  and  native  power  as  fell  to  him,  idiomatic,  in  all 
the  possible  senses  of  that  word.  It  is  "  a  nipping  and  an  eager 
air/'  and  as  little  charged  with  malice. 

His  dear  friend,  Eev.  S.  J.  May,  of  Syracuse,  once  urged  him 
to  abate  the  sarcasm ;  to  this  he  replies  :— — 

April  1, 1845. —What  you  say  about  the  sarcasm,  and  all  that,  I  by 
no  means  plead  guilty  unto.  I  wonder  that  you  should  bring  the 
charge.  I  fully  sympathise  with  Burns  in  his  compassion  for  "  auld 
Nickie  Ben,"  and  don't  like  to  think  of  hell  for  his  sake.  I  wish  he 
would  "  tak'  a  thought  an'  men'."  But,  my  dear  friend,  I  never  wrote 
a  line  with  any  ill-will,  or  sarcastic  humour,  towards  maid  or  man.  I 
should  not  dare  write  with  such  a  feeling,  least  of  all  in  such  a  cause. 
I  wonder  that  you  can  read  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  finding  nothing  of 
the  kind  therein,  and  then  discover  it  in  my  poor  writings.  What  if  I 
had  called  men  a  "  generation  of  vipers,"  "snakes,"  "children  of  the 
devil,"  and  the  like  ?  But  enough  of  this. 

The  following  letter  explains  itself : — 

West  Roxbury,  22  January,  1840. 

MY  DEAR  BBOTHEK, — I  have  just  received  your  letter  and  hasten 
to  reply,  though  not  without  deliberation.  I  am  much  obliged  to  the 
good  people  of  Lexington  for  their  favourable  opinion,  and  wish  I 


LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

deserved  it  better.  It  is  doubly  delightful  to  learn  that  any  one  in  my 
native  village  should  be  pleased  with  anything  that  I  could  do.  But  in 
respect  to  coming  to  Lexington  as  a  minister  I  have  several  things 
to  say.  I  think  you  know  that  I  came  here  against  my  own  consent. 
My  friends  advised  this  measure  of  settling  at  Spring  Street,  and  I 
consented  with  a  good  deal  of  unwillingness,  for  I  neither  liked  the 
salary  of  600  dollars,  nor  the  small  audience  of  80  or  150  souls.  But  I 
gave  up  my  scruples,  was  settled — not  for  life ;  but  can  at  any  time 
leave  the  place,  on  condition  of  giving  notice  of  my  intention  six 
months  beforehand.  The  parish  also  can  discharge  me,  by  a  majority 
of  votes,  on  the  same  condition.  Thus  stands  the  matter 'between  us, 
as  settle*!  by  the  contract.  The  parish  could  have  no  legal  or  common 
claim  upon  me  if  I  wished  to  leave  to-morrow. 

But  there  are  other  considerations  that  have  and  ought  to  have  a 
strong  influence.  This  parish  is  small,  and  the  people  poor ;  their  only 
chance  of  getting  and  keeping  a  minister  depends  on  the  advantages 
arising  from  their  position  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Boston,  Cam 
bridge,  &c.  Now,  if  I  were  to  leave  them  at  this  time  I  fear  they  could 
not  secure  the  services  of  a  minister  of  respectable  talents,  who  would 
be  really  of  use  to  them.  It  is,  therefore,  my  duty  to  stay.  I  could 
wish  with  all  my  heart  for  a  larger  sphere,  a  greater  number  of  hearers, 
and  those  more  intelligent  and  cultivated  than  the  majority  at  Spring 
Street ;  but  I  think  they  would  lose  more  than  I  should  gain  by  my 
leaving  them.  Again,  I  intend,  in  the  course  of  my  life,  to  do  more 
through  the  Press  than  the  Pulpit.  Here  I  can  find  ten  hours  a  day  for 
five  days  in  the  week  to  devote  to  works  not  directly  connected  with 
the  exercises  of  the  pulpit,  and  yet  neglect  no  duty  I  owe  to  any  man, 
or  to  the  whole  parish.  I  could  not  thus  control  my  time  in  Lexing 
ton,  where  the  people  are  both  more  numerous  and  more  scattered. 
Still  further,  I  doubt  that  I  could  long  suit  the  people  at  Lexington. 
My  theological  opinions  differ  very  widely  from  those  of  the  Uni 
tarians  in  general,  and,  perhaps,  would  not  be  acceptable  at  Lexington  ; 
though  I  fear  very  little  on  that  ground,  since  I  never  knew  men  really 

religious  to  find  any  fault  with  them You  know 

my  attachment  to  Lexington,  and  how  much  it  would  delight  me 
to  be  near  your  family,  and  all  the  good  old  people  of  the  good  old  town, 
but  taking  all  these  things  into  consideration,  and  weighing  the 
matter  fairly,  I  think,  my  dear  Isaac,  that  you  would  decide  as  I  do. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  you  are  all  well.  I  hope  the  children  study  as 
well  as  you  and  I  used  to  do  at  school,  and  wish  they  might  profit  by 
the  same  instruction  at  home,  for  which  I  shall  never  cease  to  thank 
you  all  my  life.  If  you  can  do  for  your  children  what  you  did  for  your 
little  rebellious  brother,  it  will  be  better  than  to  give  them  all  the 
houses  and  farms  in  the  county  of  Middlesex. 

Your  affectionate  brother, 

THEODORE. 

His  journal,  in  commenting  upon  this  call  to  Lexington,  has 
the  following : — 

Now,  it  is  very  pleasant  to  me  to  be  thus  kindly  received  by  my  old 
friends ;  the  men  who  patted  me  on  the  head  when  I  was  a  boy,  and 


THEODORE  PARKER.  145 

are  now  surprised  that  I  am  grown  up.  God  be  with  you,  old  parish  ; 
may  you  receive  more  men  like  the  Clarkes  and  Hancocks  and  Easter- 
brooks,  to  freshen  your  souls  once  more. 

1840. — Dr.  Channing  says  the  Universalists  have  the  idea  of  Good. 
It  is  a  powerful  idea ;  men  have  been  governed  too  much  by  fear.  He 
wishes  the  idea  of  good  to  be  held  up — not  material,  sensuous  good — 
not  pleasure,  but  spiritual  good.  The  Universalists  have  only  the  idea 
of  material  good.  Let  the  celestial  good  be  held  up  to  man.  Uni 
tarians  have,  perhaps,  preached  too  much  the  law — morality.  They 
make  man  depend  on  himself.  Let  it  be  shown  how  God,  the  All  Good, 
the  Altogether  Beautiful,  labours  to  diffuse  Himself  and  spread  good 
ness,  celestial  good,  through  all  the  world.  This  will  be  effective. 
Man  does  little  through  fear.  It  is  negative,  and  leads  only  to  defence, 
or  offence  for  the  sake  of  defence.  But  good  is  positive,  the  love  of  it 
creative,  and  not  barely  critical  and  defensive.  Consider  that  all 
creation  comes  from  love,  not  fear.  Notice  the  action  of  the  good  upon 
men  in  the  arts  and  sciences.  See  how  fear  belittles  and  love  mag 
nifies. 

At  various  periods  during  1839  and  1840,  the  phenomena 
of  moral  and  physical  evil  disturbed  his  mind,  which  was  now 
so  fully  awakened  to  difficulties  both  in  nature  and  theology  ; 
and  of  course  his  intuitive  beliefs  had  a  sharper  struggle  to 
become  adjusted  with  nature's  mysteries  than  with  man's. 

He  began  to  notice  more  anxiously  the  habits  of  animals,  and 
to  ponder  the  secrets  of  physical  laws.  Doubts  of  the  infinite 
goodness  besieged  his  mind  at  the  spectacle  of  the  play  of  brutal 
instincts.  He  still  remembered,  and  had  not  recovered  from,  the 
shock  at  first  witnessing  a  certain  cruel  trick  which  male  squirrels 
practise.  Nature  seemed  no  longer  innocent,  an  abyss  of  de 
formity  opened  before  his  guileless  feet.  What  is  the  meaning 
of  all  these  things  ?  Suspicion  filled  with  dreadful  counts  an 
indictment  against  his  earliest  instinctive  faith.  The  alligator 
devours  its  young  till  they  become  too  large  for  the  parental 
jaws.  The  permitted  barbarity  of  the  cab  to  the  mouse — the 
eagle's  injustice  in  robbing  the  fish-hawk — the  destruction  of 
young  by  the  large  black  wasps  in  the  beginning  of  October — 
the  buccaneering  of  some  birds,  who  steal  the  nests  of  other 
birds,  and  throw  out  their  eggs — the  reputed  enslaving  of  the 
black  by  the  red  ant — the  sin  against  nature  of  dogs— the  vile 
habits  of  apes  and  of  frogs — who  can  explain  these  things  ? 
They  look  devilish.  Is  there  a  dark  ground  in  the  creative  mind, 
or  does  matter  possess  properties  which  are  not  under  the  Deity's 
control?  No!  —  such  Gnostic  notions  are  inconsistent  with, 
common-sense.  Is  the  world,  then,  after  all,  the  reflex  and  product 
11 


146  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

of  human  nature,  so  that  the  vices  of  men  ordain  the  instincts  of 
animals?  Even  if  it  were  possible  to  make  the  evil  in  man 
accountable  for  the  evil  among  animals,  that  would  not  preserve 
a  conception  of  the  infinite  beauty  and  goodness.  But  it  is  not 
possible ;  for  though  man  creates  his  environment,  for  better  or 
worse,  he  cannot  obtrude  animal  tendencies  upon  the  Divine 
mind,  which  is  the  sole  creative  source.  Whence  comes  the 
power  of  deformity  originating  deformities  ?  Has  God  delegated 
to  man  the  peopling  of  the  woods,  fields,  and  waters,  by  occult 
moral  agency  ?  Besides,  it  remains  to  account  for  the  existence 
of  the  animal  tendencies  in  man  himself.  Thus  he  wrestled  with 
the  problem. 

He  soon  observed  the  tentative  efforts  of  Nature  on  her 
road  to  man,  arrested  members  and  faculties,  "  the  toes  in  a 
horse's  hoof,  the  fingers  beneath  the  skin  in  the  manati,  the  sin 
gular  mannishness  of  some  monkeys,  the  resemblance  to  human 
limbs  noticed  in  some  plants,  as  the  orchis  and  lady's  slipper — 
the  marriage  and  adultery  of  plants/'  Then  he  frankly  acknow 
ledged  the  great  capacity  for  ugliness  in  Nature,  the  strange 
forms  by  land  and  sea,  the  congenital  abortions — "  calves  with 
three  heads — fruits,  half  peach  and  half  plum  ;  apples,  one  side 
early  and  sweet,  the  other  winter  fruit  and  acid/'  Thus  he 
gradually  made  his  way  to  the  speculation  that  there  are  certain 
"  immoralities  of  nature,  which  are  distinct,  definite  predictions, 
and  prototypes  of  kindred  sins  in  man/'  If  at  this  point  his 
understanding  had  been  enlisted  in  the  service  of  a  supernatural 
theology,  which  provides  a  supernatural  atonement  for  the  fact  of 
sin,  he  might  have  used  these  marks  of  divine  premeditation  to 
invent  the  theory  of  "  anticipative  consequences/'  *  For  such  a 
theology  makes  perennial  demands  upon  human  ingenuity,  as 
any  tremendous  assumption  must  when  it  is  persistently 
credited.  Human  reason  will  never  put  up  with  merely  credit 
ing  an  assumption,  it  must  contrive  some  way  of  making  it 
seem  reasonable.  As  fast  as  knowledge  drives  it  out  of  one 
statement,  it  hastily  throws  up  another,  which  serves  only  to 
cover  its  retreat.  What  adroitness  we  have  seen  since  the  deve 
lopments  of  geology  threatened  Genesis  and  all  the  sacrificial 
schemes  !  Reynard,  in  the  mediaeval  poem,  never  saved  his  brush 
so  often.  Death,  sin,  the  federal  head,  the  "primal,  eldest 
curse,"  all  the  precious  objects  are  snatched  away  before  the 
*  Nature  and  the  Supernatural.  By  Dr.  Bushnell.  See  Chapter  VII. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  147 

trained,  impassive  advances  of  science,  and  placed  in  new  posi 
tions.  The  fetiches  of  the  tribe  must  not  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy.  May  the  day  of  utter  rout  and  disenchantment  end 
not  too  soon  a  kind  of  melancholy  metaphysic  interest  we  find 
in  the  shifty  spectacle  ! 

But  the  shiftiest  thing  to  do  is  to  sally  forth,  seize  some  of 
the  hostile  facts,  and  convert  them  to  evangelic  service.  This  is 
the  theory  of  "  anticipative  consequences."  Its  distinction  is 
that  God  foreknew  that  men  would  have  to  sin.  His  whole 
being  was  so  penetrated  with  anticipations  of  this  sombre  exi 
gency,  that  His  creative  skill  turned  itself  to  the  preparation  of 
abhorrent  symbols,  which  grew  gradually  worse  through  a  long 
course  of  geologic  epochs,  till  at  last  the  degradation  was  ripe 
for  man.  It  is  very  possible  that  if  a  God  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  indulging  such  imaginations,  he  might  originate  at 
length  a  good  deal  of  misery.  Geologic  epochs  framed  in  this 
Dantesque  conception  might  circle  down,  through  subversive 
instinct  and  deepening  deterioration,  to  man  himselfj  "the 
bright,  consummate "  wretch  of  all.  And  he  would  be  asso 
ciated  with  snakes,  wry-mouthed  flounders,  with  the  rage  and 
cunning  of  wild  beasts,  with  all  deformed  antagonistic  types, 
that  he  might  not  forget  that  -he  was  conceived  in  sin  and  dis 
appoint  parental  expectations.  He  would  be  obliged  to  fall  to 
sinning,  because  a  special  effort  to  save  him,  which  could  not  take 
effect  unless  he  first  does  his  best  to  be  lost,  has  also  been  pre 
ordained.  So  his  rudiments'  are  insinuated  by  a  set  of  ominous 
pictorials ;  venomous  reptiles,  carnivorous  animals,  repulsive  forms 
of  life  by  sea  and  land,  the  bloated  spider,  the  chattering  ape,  all 
ruthless  and  stealthy  creatures,  are  mnemonics  for  man's  life-long 
lesson  in  the  business  of  developing  the  tendencies  which  they 
prefigure,  that  the  tendencies  may  be  overcome  by  grace ! 

What  could  more  strikingly  display  the  horrible  necessities  of 
that  supernatural  theology,  which  Mr.  Parker  so  justly  hated, 
than  this  representation  of  an  infinite  Creator,  seeing  clearly 
that  He  must  accept  evil  if  He  would  go  on  to  organize  His 
thought ;  that  He  is  confronted  at  the  first  step  which  he  takes 
out  of  potentiality  by  this  infamous  companion,  without  whom 
He  must  not  make  the  worlds.  He  accepts  this  sine  qua  non, 
but  at  the  same  time  there  occurs  to  Him  the  idea  of  a  great 
supernatural  remedy,  into  which  cunning  trap  the  cloven  foot 
will  set  itself  at  last.  He  is  powerless  to  shake  off  the  bad 


148  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

condition,  but  is  sagacious  enough  to  make  it  serve  a  purpose. 
What  a  God  is  that  who  consoles  Himself  through  ages  of  a  sin- 
haunted  imagination  which  deliberately  invents  symbols  of  its 
dreadful  surmises,  with  anticipating  that  He  can  at  last  interpose 
Himself  in  person  to  save  a  ruined  mankind  from  the  conse 
quences  of  His  own  enforced  complicity  with  evil !  How  humi 
liating  is  the  thought  that  a  few  words  in  the  Bible  subject 
men's  minds  to  the  drudgery  of  rearing  these  elaborate  fantasies 
to  imprison  the  stubborn  facts  of  Nature  !  The  facts  escape,  and 
are  again  at  large. 

Mr.  Parker  did  not  possess,  and  did  not  need,  this  kind  of 
subtlety  to  adjust  his  mind  to  the  problem  which  disturbed 
it.  No  adjustment,  made  in  the  interest  of  any  theology,  can 
answer  all  the  questions  which  the  intellect  is  capable  of  raising. 
But  one  mode  of  treatment  is  less  fantastic  than  another.  And 
every  mind  must  make  its  own  terms  with  the  problem.  His 
own  broad  health  and  common-sense,  his  unconquerable  hope, 
his  great  humanity,  and  the  intuitive  conviction  of  a  perfect 
love  which  ruled  all  his  thoughts,  saved  him  from  an  elaborate 
and  tyrannizing  scheme.  It  was  a  great  advantage  to  him  in 
exposing  particular  sins  and  sinners  that  he  had  no  theory  of 
sin  to  defend.  He  went  to  his  reforming  work  uncrippled, 
full  of  faith  and  hope  in  man,  full  of  indignation  for  bad 
men,  full  of  pity  for  those  who  struggle  in  degraded  conditions 
or  in  partial  growth. 

Now,  were  I  to  draw  conclusions  solely  from  organic  nature,  what 
attributes  should  I  ascribe  to  the  cause  of  the  world  ?  Certainly  not 
just  the  same  I  now  give  Him.  But,  looking  into  my  consciousness, 
I  find  there  a  different  idea  irf  a  God ;  so  the  first  witness  is  insufficient 
— the  last  perfectly  competent. 

I  do  not  understand  how  all  the  evil  which  man  inflicts  upon  another 
animal,  or  one  animal  upon  its  fellow,  can  consist  with  the  ultimate  happi 
ness  of  that  animal.  But  if  God  is  infinitely  just,  it  must  be  so.  I 
know  how  all  things  may  work  together  for  the  good  of  the  extremest 
suffering  among  men,  but  not  among  brutes. 

Now,  in  estimating  the  phenomena  of  evil,  my  own  faith  says  there 
is  a  perfect  system  of  optimism  in  the  world  ;  that  each  man's  life  is  to 
him  an  infinite  good.  Of  course  all  his  physical  evils  must  be  means 
of  progress,  all  his  errors  likewise  unavoidable  steps  in  his  course  to 
happiness.  But  to  legitimate  this  in  the  court  of  the  understanding,  where 
all  other  truths  are  legitimated,  I  find  difficult.  Faith  has  nothing  to 
do  there.  I  will  imagine  a  person  who  denies  that  all  things  work 
together  for  good,  and  suppose  myself  to  reply  to  the  arguments  I 
should  bring  in  such  a  case. 


THEODORE   PAEKEH.  149 

Here  the  notes  end  abruptly,  and  the  mental  controversy  re 
appears  only  in  the  statement  of  a  few  results. 

The  virtues  of  a  baby  are  easily  learned  while  fondling  in  the  nurse's 
arras,  but  the  virtues  of  a  man  require  the  stern  cradling  of  affliction. 

I  think  no  sin  can  make  an  indelible  mark  on  the  primitive  Monad — 
so  to  say — what  I  call  the  soul.  I  take  it  the  atoms  of  matter  never 
change,  though  they  take  the  forms  of  gas,  fluid,  and  solid,  though  they 
are  in  the  form  of  a  crystal,  vegetable,  or  animal.  So  I  think  sin 
makes  little  mark  on  the  soul;  for,  1,  much  of  it  is  to  be  referred  to 
causes  exterior  even  to  the  physical  man ;  and  2,  much  to  the  man's 
organization.  I  think  -j9^-  of  sin  are  thus  explicable — the  result  of  the 
man's  limitation— A,  the  result  of  his  circumstances ;  B,  of  his  organi 
zation.  Now,  I  am  sure  that  sin,  the  result  of  A  or  B,  can  make  no 
permanent  mark  on  the  soul.  .  God  will  not  damn  a  man  because  his, 
father  had  lad  neighbours,  nor  because  the  man  was  born  with  a  bad 
head,  more  than  with  a  lame  leg.  Now,  I  think  many  struggle  with  both 
A  and  B,  and  apparently  make  no  progress,  who  will  yet  rise  in  the  next 
life  far  above  most  of  us.  They  may  make  a  great  inward  progress, 
but  from  defective^  organization  or  circumstances  it  shall  not  appear. 

Men  complain  of  wild  beasts  in  the  forests,  of  monsters  in  the  sea, 
of  toads  and  snakes,  vipers,  and  many  a  loathsome  thing,  hideous  to 
our  imperfect  eye.  How  little  do  we  know  !  a  world  without  an  alli 
gator  or  a  rattlesnake,  a  hya?na  or  a  shark,  would  doubtless  be  a  very 
imperfect  world. 

Theologians  often  talk  mythologically  about  sin,  as  if  there  was 
something  mysterious  in  its  origin,  its  course,  its  process,  its  result,  and 
final  end.  They  tell  us  that  as  it  is  a  transgression  against  the  infinite 
God,  so  it  is  an  infinite  evil,  meaning  an  absolute  evil,  demanding  an 
eternal  punishment.  To  this  scholastic  folly  it  is  enough  to  reply,  that 
if  sin  be  for  this  reason  an  absolute  evil,  then  the  smallest  suffering 
coming  from  an  infinite  God  is  an  infinite  suffering,  and  cancels  the  sin. 

That  is,  what  the  finite  can  do,  and  what  it  can  suffer,  must 
be  of  the  same  magnitude.  You  must  rate  both  as  infinite,  or 
neither. 

I  am  pained  by  every  evil  thing  I  do.  In  the  next  life  I  hope  to 
suffer  till  I  learn  the  mastery  of  myself,  and  keep  the  conditions  of  my 
higher  life.  Through  the  Eed  Sea  of  pain  I  will  march  to  the  Promised 
Land,  the  divine  ideal  guiding  from  before,  the  Egyptian  actual  urging 
from  behind.* 

This  letter  to  Hon.  James  Q.  Birney  gives  a  clear  and  compact 
statement  of  his  belief  concerning  punishment : — 

Boston,  3rd  Oct.,  1852. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  have  been  so  busy  in  removing  from  summer  to  winter 
quarters  that  I  have  had  no  time  to  reply  to  your  note  until  this 

*  Sermons  of  Theism,  pp.  361-62.  See  the  sermons  on  the  "  Economy  of  Pain," 
and  the  "Economy  of  Moral  Error,"  for  his  completed  yiews  on  the  subject  of  Sin. 


150  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

moment.  It  seem8  to  me  that  we  should  not  use  the  word  punish  at  all 
in  reference  to  the  action  of  God.  The  only  punishment  that  we  know 
is  this — the  arbitrary  infliction  of  pain  from  without.  Usually  it  is  ac 
companied  with  ill-will  and  a  desire  of  vengeance,  but  sometimes  with 
kindly  feelings  and  a  desire  to  hurt  for  the  sake  of  healing.  Now,  theo 
logical  books  commonly  represent  God  as  punishing  men  in  this  or  the 
future  life  with  ill-will  and  a  desire  for  vengeance.  "Hell"  is  for 
God's  sake ;  damnation  is  of  no  advantage  to  the  damned,  only  to  the 
damner.  Well,  all  of  that  language  is  unphilosophical,  and  ought  to  be 
blotted  out  of  all  decent  speech,  it  seems  to  me.  The  trouble  I  believe 
is  this — men  do  not  believe  that  God  is  infinite,  but  finite  and  imper 
fect,  and  therefore  they  attribute  such  motives  and  such  actions  to  Him. 
If  you  start  with  the  idea  of  God  as  infinite,  possessing  all  the  attri 
butes  of  a  perfect  and  complete  being,  perfectly  powerful,  wise,  just, 
loving,  and  holy  (t.  e.,  self-faithful),  then  the  difficulty  is  all  over;  for 
God  must  have  created  men  from  a  perfect  motive,  for  a  perfect  end,  as 
a  perfect  means  for  the  attainment  of  that  end,  and  so  the  attainment 
of  the  ultimate  end  of  God's  design  cannot  fail. 

Now,  the  infinite  God  must  desire  the  ultimate  welfare  of  each  of 
His  creatures,  must  have  means  for  bringing  it  about — means  that  are 
adequate  to  the  purpose.  I  know  very  little  what  these  means  are ;  but 
this  is  plain,  that  all  which  a  man  suffers  by  the  providence  of  God 
must  be  for  the  good  of  the  sufferer.  It  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  the 
infinite  God  will  allow  anyone  to  be  miserable  forever  in  consequence 
of  the  grossest  and  the  worst  of  "  sins  "  here  ;  for  the  sins  are  often  as 
much  involuntary  as  the  stumbling  of  the  child  in  learning  to  go  alone. 
It  seems  to  me  that  all  the  suffering  of  men — and  in  such  a  town  as 
this  I  see  enough  of  it — is  in  the  end  to  work  out  a  good  result,  not 
only  for  the  race,  but  for  the  individual  sufferer.  Indeed,  it  must  be  so 
if  God  be  infinite,  and  his  work  perfect  for  His  purpose.  I  never 
speak  of  future  punishment,  but  of  future  progress,  by  the  justice  and 
the  mercy  and  the  love  of  God. 

Eespectfully  and  truly  yours,  &c. 

When  I  see  the  suffering  of  animals,  the  father-alligator  eating  up 
his  sons  and  daughters,  and  the  mother-alligator  seeking  to  keep  them 
from  his  jaws ;  when  I  see  the  sparrow  falling  at  a  dandy's  shot,  I 
know  that  these  things  have  been  provided  for  by  the  God  of  the 
alligator  and  the  sparrow,  and  that  the  universe  is  lodged  as  collateral 
security  to  insure  bliss  to  every  sparrow  that  falls.* 

Thus,  instead  of  fashioning  with  great  labour  a  theory  that 
shall  seem  to  account  for  all  the  facts,  while  in  reality  it  shall 
fail  to  account  for  the  origin  of  evil  whence  all  the  facts  have 
flowed,,  he  overcame  doubt  with  this  happy  temper  of  his  whole 
mind,  a  humane  and  tender  optimism,  which  strove  to  embrace 
all  the  facts  with  something  like  the  Divine  impartiality. 

The  subject  of  the  following  letter  gives  it  a  place  here, 
though  it  is  of  a  later  date  by  twenty  years.  It  was  addressed 

*  Speculative  Theism,  p.  176. 


i  THEODORE   PAEKEB.  151 

to  Rev.  James  F.  Clarke,  who  had  preached  a  sermon  about  him 
while  he  was  sick  at  Rome,  1859-60,  in  which  he  made  the 
criticism  upon  Mr.  Parker's  preaching,  that  it  did  not  sufficiently 
magnify  the  fact  of  sin.  Whoever  has  a  great  deal  of  natural 
piety  for  sin,  is  advised  to  pass  this  communication  by : — 

Many  thanks  for  standing  in  my  pulpit  and  preaching  about  me 
and  mine ;  all  the  more  thanks  for  the  criticisms.  Of  course  I  don't 
agree  with  your  criticisms — if  I  had  I  should  not  have  given  you 
occasion  to  make  them. 

***** 

Now  a  word  about  sin.  It  is  a  theological  word,  and  is  commonly 
pronounced  ngsin-n-n-n!  But  I  think  the  thing  which  ministers 
mean  by  ngsin-n-n-n  has  no  more  existence  than  phlogiston,  which  was 
once  adopted  to  explain  combustion.  I  find  sins,  i.e.,  conscious  violations 
of  natural  right,  but  no  sin,  i.e.  no  conscious  and  intentional  preference 
of  wrong  (as  such)  to  right  (as  such);  no  condition  of  "  enmity 
against  God."  I  seldom  use  the  word  sin — it  is  damaged  phraseology, 
tainted  by  contact  with  infamous  notions  of  man  and  G-od.  I  have 
some  sermons  of  sin  and  of  sins,  which  I  may  live  long  enough  to 
prepare  for  printing,  but  also  may  not. 

Deacon  Wryface,  of  the  Hellfire  Church,  says,  "  Oh,  I  am  a  great 
sinner ;  I  am  one  mass  of  sin  all  over ;  the  whole  head  is  sick,  and  the 
whole  heart  faint.  In  me  there  dwelleth  no  good  thing.  There  is 
no  health  in  me."  "Well,"  you  say  to  him,  "for  once,  Deacon,  I 
think  you  pretty  near  right;  but  you  are  not  yet  quite  so  bad  as 
you  talk." 

"  Why — what  have  you  got  against  me — what  do  you  know  against 
my  character  ?  "  says  the  Hellfire  Church  deacon. 

"If  you  want  a  bill  of  particulars,  here  goes,"  say  you;  "just 
answer  as  I  call  them  off. 

"  1.  You  will  lie !"     "  '  Tairft  true." 

"  2.  You  cheat  in  your  trade,  and  lately  wronged  Widow  Crosby  out 
of  her  house  and  land  ?  "  "  That's  a  lie — I  never  cheat !  " 

."  3.  You  get  drunk — on  other  men's  wine — and  were  boosy  only 
day  before  yesterday,  and  had  to  be  helped  up-stairs."  "That's  a 
slander." 

"  4.  You  are  inhuman,  and  have  got  ships  in  the  Coolie  trade,  and  I 
think  in  the  African  slave-trade  besides  ?"  "  Well — there's  no  wrong 
in  that — the  niggers  are  the  descendants  of  Ham,  of  whom  Grod  said, 
*  Cursed  be  Canaan.'  I  do  this  to  bring  the  benighted  heathen  under 
Christian  influences." 

"  5.  You  are  avaricious,  and  dodge  all  the  charities.  You  put  your 
name  at  the  head  of  subscriptions  to  decoy  others,  and  then  never  pay 
up."  "That's  a  lie!" 

"  0.  You  are  a  consummate  hypocrite,  pretending  to  all  the  virtues 
of  ^humanity,  while  you  practise  only  the  vices."  "  It  is  all  a  lie." 

"Well  then,"  say  you,  "what  are  the  special  sins  you  do  com 
mit  r " 

"  Oh,  there  ain't  any.  I  hain't  got  a  bad  habit  in  the  world — no, 
not  one!" 


152  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

"  Then  what  did  you  mean  by  saying  just  now  that  you  were  such 
a  sinner  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  referred  to  my  natur* :  it  is  all  wgsin-n-n-n" 

That  is  the  short  of  it — all  men  are  created  equal  in  ngsin-n-n-n. 
Dr.  Channing  was  as  great  a  sinner — in  the  theological  sense — as 

:  it  is  his  fallen  nature — his  will  can  never  clean  him  from 

that  o-d-i-o-u-s  gall. 

Oh,  James,  I  think  the  Christian  (!)  doctrine  of  sin  is  the  Devil's 
own,  and  I  hate  it — hate  it  utterly.  Orthodox  scholars  say,  "  in  the 
heathen  classics  you  find  no  consciousness  of  sin."  It  is  very  true — 
God  be  thanked  for  it !  They  were  conscious  of  wrath,  of  cruelty, 
avarice,  drunkenness,  lust,  sloth,  cowardice,  and  other  actual  vices, 
and  struggled,  and  got  rid  of  the  deformities,  but  they  were  not 
conscious  of  "  enmity  against  God,"  and  did  not  sit  down  and 
whine  and  groan  about  non-existent  evil.'  I  have  done  wrong 
things  enough  in  my  life,  and  do  them  now ;  I  miss  the  mark 
(a/na^Tavw),  draw  bow  and  try  again.  But  I  am  not  conscious  of 
hating  God,  or  man,  or  right,  or  love,  and  I  know  there  is  much 
"  health  in  me ;"  and  in  "  my  body,"  even  now,  when  it  is  really  not 
worth  much,  there  dwelleth  many  a  "good  thing,"  spite  of  consump 
tion  and  St.  Paul. 

Here  at  Borne  you  see  the  odds  between  the  old  classic  conception 
of  man,  and  the  modern  Christian  (!)  conception.  The  heathen  men 
and  their  gods,  &c.,  are  represented  as  stout  able-bodied  fellows,  who 
did  their  work  manfully,»ate  their  dinners,  married  their  wives,  and 
begat  sons  and  daughters  with  thankfulness  of  heart.  But  the  statues 
and  paintings  of  the  Christian  heroes  hang  their  heads,  and  wring 
their  hands,  and  draw  down  the  corners  of  their  mouth,  and  go  with 
out  their  breakfast ;  they  don't  sleep  well  o'  nights,  they  make  "  a 
covenant  with  their  eyes  not  to  look  upon  a  maid,"  and  are  always 
making  a  fuss  about  their  s-o-u-1.  I  would  rather  have  a  good,  plump, 
hearty  heathen,  like  Aristotle,  or  Demosthenes,  or  Eabius  Maximus 
than  all  the  saints  from  Peter,  James,  and  John  (<WO£WTE?  o-rvXoi  slteu) 
down  to  the  last  one  manufactured  by  the  Roman  Church — I  mean  as 
those  creatures  are  represented  in  art ;  for  the  actual  men  I  have  a 
reasonable  respect — they  had  some  spunk  in  them,  while  the  statues 
even  of  Paul  represent  him  "  as  mean  as  a  yaller  dog."  But  let 
ngsin-n-n-n  go — I  will  turn  to  something  else. 

This  letter  indicates  how  a  portion  of  the  autumn  of  1839 
was  spent. 

TO   WM.    SILSBEE. 

Westfield,  October  15. 

Here  we  are ;  I  say  we,  meaning  George  Hipley,  Henry  Lee,  jun., 
and  myself,  on  a  pedestrian  expedition  of  great  extent  and  most  un 
certain  duration,  but  here  at  all  events,  and  obliged,  since  we  have 
perishable  bodies,  to  lay  by,  on  account  of  a  violent  rain  which  has 
continued  all  night  and  all  day,  and  threatens  to  be  perpetual.  Doleful 
it  is,  with  the  scent  of  the  bar-room  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other 
the  pattering  of  rain,  the  jingling  of  crockery,  the  neighing  of  horses, 
and  the  cackling  and  crowing  of  little  hens  and  cocks.  Yet  withal  it 
is  not  dismal,  for  we  have  right  fair  weather  within  ourselves,  and  I 


THEODORE   PARKER.  153 

have  just  now,  this  blessed  rainy  day,  read  through  Sterne's  "  Senti 
mental  Journey"  and  "Peter's  Letters  to  his  Kinsfolk,"  not  to  mention 
the  fibs  we  have  told  one  another  this  morning. 

I  wish  to  know  if  you  have  read  Eipley  on  the  "  Latest  Form  of 
Infidelity,"  and  what  you  think  thereof.  To  me  it  seems  excellent, 
both  in  design  and  execution — equally  fine  in  manner,  matter,  and 
.spirit.  The  Professor  may  well  thank  Heaven  that  he  has  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  a  Christian  man  and  not  the  clutches  of  a  Philistine.  Some 
men  would  ha^e  treated  him  as  the  giant  charitably  designed  to  treat 
Jack — would  have  broken  every  bone  in  his  body.  But,  after  all,  the 
Professor  is  not  to  be  despised  nor  abused.  He  has  done  a  good  work, 
so  let  him  be  honoured  for  that ;  for  there  are  few  scholars  who  have 
done  one  good  work. 

Our  party,  hoping  for  a  pleasant  expedition,  design  to  spend  "this 
and  the  next  week  in  roaming  about  among  the  hills  of  Berkshire 
county ;  we  should  have  much  pleasure  if  you  were  with  us.  It 
grieves  me  to  think  how  much  we  are  separated,  when  we  of  old  time 
were  so  strictly  conjoined.  Pray  write  me  of  your  plans,  and  tell 
where  you  may  expect  to  be  the  next  few  months.  Give  my  best  and 
most  affectionate  regards  to  Charlotte,  and  the  little  unshod  Carmelite 
who  blesses  your  arms  the  greatest  part  of  the  time  I  fear. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

September  15,  1840. 

Dr.  "Walker's  discourse  before  the  Alumni  was  exceedingly  good, 
and  so  far  from  "  prohibiting  the  banns  between  Religion  and  Philo 
sophy,"  he  said  matters  had  gone  so  far  between  the  two  parties 
already,  that  the  affair  could  not  be  winked  out  of  sight  (by  the  old 
folks)  ;  it  could  not  be  hushed  up  in  the  family,  nor  was  it  safe  at  this 
stage  of  the  progress  to  call  Philosophy  by  a  bad  name  and  then  let 
him  go.  He  recommended  immediate  union,  as  soon  as  the  priest 
could  be  got  ready. 

Now  I  suppose  the  parties,  for  both  Religion  and  Philosophy  were 
in  the  church,  took  the  hint,  and  went  off  to  Providence  or  New  York, 
and  were  made  man  and  wife  with  all  convenient  despatch ;  for  not  a 
word  has  been  heard  from  either  of  them  since.  I  suppose  they  are 
now  making  a  nuptial  tour  through  the  States ;  for  I  hear  of  "ferments" 
and  "  excitements  "  in  other  parts,  which  make  me  suspect  the  couple 
are  still  active.  If  they  do  not  return  to  New  England  for  some  years 
I  trust  they  will  come  back  with  their  arms  full  of  giant  babies,  who 
shall  build  up  the  shaken  walls  of  the  church,  and  the  school,  and  so 
revise  the  work  of  both  parents. 

TO    MISS   E.    P.    PEABODY. 

December  18,  1840 

I  love  to  lie  a  bright  day  in  June,  under  a  tree,  while  the  growing 
leaves  produce  new  modifications  of  beauty  in  shadows  on  the  grass 
each  moment,  to  look  up  to  the  rich  clouds  and  half  think,  half 
dream  about  the  manner  in  which  the  Infinite  created  the  Finite.  But 
when  I  get  upon  my  feet,  it  all  becomes  a  dream  again.  The  idea  of 
something  created  out  of  nothing  is  an  absurdity.  God  created  the 
world — out  of  Himself,  so  He  is  still  in  it,  creating  every  day — not  only 
worketh  hitherto  but  now  likewise.  Creation  in  its  essence  may  not  }>e 


154  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

• 

a  profitable  subject  of  contemplation,  but  some  of  the  aspects  of  it  are 
infinitely  touching  I  think.  At  different  stages  of  life  I  have  been 
amazed  at  the  power  and  the  wisdom  that  are  involved  in  the  creative 
act.  But  of  later  years,  as  I  look  more  through  the  surfaces  of  things, 
or  at  least  try  to  do  so,  it  is  the  beauty  and  loving-kindness  of  God  that 
strikes  me  most.  I  think  with  you  that  we  can  apprehend  the  creative 
moment  through  love,  and  through  that  alone.  It  is  this  that  solves 
all  the  mystery ;  it  cares  little  for  the  details  of  the  work,  but  tells  us 
at  once — "  Out  of  the  depths  of  infinite  love  God  drew  forth  the 
world.  Oh,  mortal,  whoever  thou  art,  thank  God  that  thou  art  born ; 
and  take  courage,  for  thou  also  art  a  child  of  infinite  love,  and  all  of 
thy  past  is  working  on  thy  behalf.  So  fear  not ;  what  though  you  weep 
a  little  while  you  scatter  the  seed,  and  the  cold  rain  of  spring  drenches 
and  chills  you,  from  this  very  field  you  shall  fill  your  bosom  with 
sheaves  of  satisfaction." 

To  me  this  thought,  this  feeing  is  enough  to  wipe  the  tear  from  my 
eye  at  any  time.  It  is  infinite  counsel,  and  infinite  comfort.  It 
has  been  adequate  for  all  the  trials  I  have  yet  found,  and  I 
trust  it  "will  keep  me"  till  the  world  ends.  I  often,  wish  I  could 
impart  this  same  feeling  to  others.  But  the  attempts  always  remind 
me  of  the  truth  in  Plato,  "  It  of  all  things  is  the  most  difficult  to  find 
out  God,  and  impossible  to  communicate  Him  to  others."  Yet  it  has 
come  to  me  with  little  conscious  difficulty.  I  sometimes  try — yes,  it  is 
the  object  of  my  preaching — to  lead  all  to  this  same  "  watch-tower  in  the 
skies ;"  but  they  tell  me,  "  Look  at  the  evil,  the  wretchedness,  the  sin  of 
the  world  —  the  wrongs  that  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes," 
as  if  I  could  not  not  see  them  all,  and  feel  some  of  them.  I  wish  you 
would  tell  me,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  some  better  method  of  doing  this. 
You  are  the  all-sympathizer,  and  must  know  how  to  do  this  kindly 
office  also. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Saturday  Night. 

My  YEKY  DEAE  Euz. — I  deplored  more  than  you  could  the  sad 

interruption  to  our  talk — I  am  glad  always  to  see  Mr. .  I  respect 

him  much,  though  he  bored  me  a  little  then.  I  got  some  hints  from 
him  which  will  be  useful,  I  think.  The  evil  was  he  came  when  I  wanted 
two  things,  repose  and  Elizabeth.  ,116  disturbed  both.  I  should  have 
come  into  your  house,  Monday,  but  I  did  not  get  into  town  till  four 
o'clock,  had  many  errands  in  all  parts  of  the  town,  came  under  your 
window  with  Alcott,  and  saw  the  back  of  your  head  at  the  window, 
and  was  besides  obliged  to  go  home  at  eight,  for  then  the  carry-all  and 
Aunt  Lucy  came  in.  Do  not  fear  that  I  shall  leave  or  forsake  you.  I 
should  not  commit  the  unusual  sin  of  writing  a  sermon  Saturday  night. 
But  Monday  morning  I  went  in  quest  of  a  cow ;  so  there  was  no 
sermon.  It  would  not  come  into  shape  on  Saturday  morning,  but  now 
it  is  fortunately  all  done,  but  is  shockingly  poor.  It  lacks  unity, 
strength,  and  height  and  depth,  and  all  dimensions. 

Your  journal  pleases  me  amazingly.  It  is  par  seme  with  beautiful 
thoughts,  though  I  had  rather  tell  this  to  some  other  than  to  you.  But 
you  criticise  yourself  with  dreadful  sharpness.  If  I  had  only  my  own 
merit,  and  all  your  self-condemning  modesty,  I  should  expire  at  once 


•  THEODORE   PARKER.  155 

in  universal  bankruptcy.  Nobody  would  trust  me  for  a  shoe-tie.  But 
it  ia  fortunate  that  such  supercelestial  self-distrust  should  be  balanced 
as  it  is.  I  need  not  tell  you  how. 

I  don't  agree  with  you  on  the  question  of  the  Eesurrection.  The 
Berkeleyan  hypothesis  solves  it  quite  as  little  as  the  ffartleian,  I  think. 
That  God  should  suspend,  violate  and  contradict  the  laws  He  has  made 
for  no  purpose  at  all,  or  in  such  a  way  as  to  prove  nothing,  I  find  it 
difficult  to  conceive;  the  contradictory  accounts  puzzle  me.  Christ 
comes  through  the  door  that  is  shut,  vanishes  like  a  ghost,  walks  with  the 
disciples  to  Emmaus,  and  in  spite  of  the  wounds  in  his  hands  and  feet, 
they  do  not  know  him,  until  he  breaks  the  bread.  All  these  and  many 
more  are  puzzling  circumstances  to  me. 

But  the  matter  itself  is  of  small  moment.  I  am  certain  of  my  own 
immortality.  That  is  enough.  I  have  no  doubt  that  Jesus  Christ 
wrought  miracles — though  I  find  it  difficult  to  believe  he  turned  water 
into  wine  or  fed  five  thousand  with  a  few  loaves.  But  these  things 
never  trouble  me.  The  purple  clouds  that  gather  round  the  setting  sun 
are  but  the  proper  accompaniments  of  the  all  of  light.  Still  I  do  not 
look  upon  them  as  the  sun,  and  when  I  think  of  him  at  mid-day  the 
clouds  with  all  their  purple  are  but  an  insulting  thought.  I  regard  the 
stories  of  impossible  miracles  as  the  refractions  of  his  light  in  the 
gross  atmosphere  of  Jewish  and  Pagan  minds. 

FROM  THE  JOURNAL. 

BEEEY  STEEET  CONTEEENCE,  1840. — Last  week  in  May  attended  the 
annual  meetings  of  the  Unitarians.  The  following  proposition  was  dis 
cussed  :  "  Ought  differences  of  opinion  on  the  value  and  authority  of 
miracles  to  exclude  men  from  Christian  fellowship  and  sympathy  with 

one  another?"     This  is  the  substance.     L says  it  smacks  of  the 

12th  century  to  debate  such  a  question.  I  was  not  a  little  horrified  to 
think  a  doubt  could  be  raised ;  but  men  went  so  far  as  to  ask  if  it  were 
proper  to  exchange  with  one  another,  if  they  differed  on  this  question. 
This  is  the  19th  century !  This  is  Boston !  This  among  the  "Unitarians ! 
Some  good  speeches  were  made  by  Ripley,  Stetson,  and  Hedge,  quite 
to  the  advantage  of  the  New  School,  but  the  fundamental  questions 
were  not  touched.  I  wished  to  disenchant  men  of  their  delusions,  but 
could  not.  I  said  nothing.  However,  they  all  parted  in  peace,  and 
with  this  conclusion,  that  though  there  were  differences  of  opinion, 
there  was  yet  no  cause  for  withholding  Christian  sympathy — a  result 
they  might  as  well  have  brought  with  them  as  gathered  from  such  a 
discussion.  For  my  own  part,  I  intend,  in  the  coming  year,  to  let  out 
all  the  force  of  Transcendentalism  that  is  in  me.  Come  what  will 
come,  I  will  let  off  the  Truth  fast  as  it  comes. 

June. — I  look  upon  my  office  as  giving  me  an  opportunity  twice  a 
week  of  addressing  men  on  their  dearest  interests.  The  creed  of  the 
Church  I  have  nothing  to  do  with.  I  wish  to  make  men  more  moral 
and  more  religious.  If  they  think  as  I  do,  very  well ;  if  they  do  not, 
very  well  also.  The  rites  of  the  Church  do  not  disturb  me  much. 
Baptism  I  like — it  means  something.  The  Lord's  Supper  I  don't  like, 
as  it  is  now  administered.  It  is  a  heathenish  rite,  and  means  very 
little,  I  think.  Cast  away  the  elements.  Let  all  who  will  come  into  a 


156  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

parlour  and  have  a  social  religious  meeting ;  eat  bread  and  wine,  if  you 
like,  or  curds  and  cream  and  baked  apples,  if  you  will ;  and  have  a 
conversation,  free  and  cheerful,  on  moral  questions,  or  simply  personal 
good  feelings  and  prayers.  Only  let  all  be  rational  and  real. 

I  do  not  believe  in  the  Old  Testament  or  the  New,  as  my  Christian 
fellows  do.  I  know  there  are  not  ten  churches  in  New  England  where 
I  could  be  admitted,  if  moral  as  James  and  pious  as  Christ. 

About  tbis  time  Mr.  Parker  appeared  in  the  discussion  which 
was  opened,  in  1839,  by  Professor  Norton,  in  his  discourse 
entitled  "The  Latest  Form  of  Infidelity."  Mr.  Ripley  under 
took  a  reply,  in  which  he  ably  controverted  Mr.  Norton's  view 
of  the  value  of  miracles  as  the  exclusive  evidences  of  Chris 
tianity,  and  corrected  the  Professor's  bad  translations  from  De 
Wette.  It  was  a  just  vindication  of  German  theologians,  and 
of  liberal  thinking,  from  official  imputations  of  infidelity.  Pro 
fessor  Norton  reiterated  his  statements  in  a  rejoinder.  Then 
Mr.  Ripley,  in  two  letters — the  first,  an  admirable  development 
of  Spinoza's  metaphysics,  the  second  a  full  defence  of  Schleier- 
macber  and  De  Wette,  betrayed  his  own  philosophical  culture 
and  thorough  knowledge  of  the  subject,  and  in  thus  closing 
his  share  in  the  controversy,  gave  it  dignity  and  value.  An 
anonymous  pamphlet  appeared  about  the  same  time.  Mr.  Parker's 
contribution  immediately  followed,  being  a  pamphlet  entitled 
"  The  Previous  Question  between  Mr.  Andrews  Norton  and  his 
Alumni  moved  and  handled,  in  a  Letter  to  all  those  Gentlemen. 
By  Levi  Blodgett."  It  is  an  excellent  statement  of  his  own 
belief  at  the  time ;  and  it  argues  the  necessity  of  putting 
the  evidence  for  Christianity  upon  an  immutable  spiritual 
foundation. 

June  21. — S had  some  good  things  to  say  in  comparing  Plato 

with  Jesus,  though  I  think  she  assigned  him  too  high  a  place  relative 
to  Jesus  Christ — a  fault  very  few  Christians  commit.  We  should 
always  remember  the  different  culture  of  the  two,  the  differing  atmo 
spheres  they  breathed ;  and  still  more,  that  one  lived  eighty,  the  other 
less  than  thirty-five  years.  One  realised  his  idea,  the  other  was  "  soon 
cut  off."  Take  those  three  great  ideas  of  each,  Man,  Grod,  and  their 
relation,  and,  though  Plato  were  godlike,  Jesus  is  divine. 

May,  1840. — Had  a  long  talk  with .  She  doubts  the  infalli 
bility  of  conscience,  under  any  circumstances — seems  phrenologically 
inclined — denies  the  will  of  man.  I  could  shed  no  light  upon  the  sub 
ject  at  all.  She  took  the  ground  of  Owen,  that  everything  is  forecast 
in  the  mental  or  physical  structure  of  the  man.  She  will  have  a  motive 
for  all  things,  and  makes  action  the  result  of  the  balance  of  forces  in 
clining  this  way  or  that.  She  will  outgrow  this.  It  can  only  be  lived 


THEODORE   PARKER.  157 

down.  I  have  passed  through  the  same  stage,  and  regard  it  as  I  do  the 
chicken-pox — something  that  must  come,  and  which  we  are  glad  is  well 
over,  but  which  confines  few  persons  for  any  length  of  time. 

May,  1840. — How  my  own  thought  troubles  me !  I  have  a  work  to 
do,  and  how  am  I  straightened  till  it  be  accomplished  ?  I  must  write 
an  Introduction  to  the  New  Testament — must  show  what  Christianity 
is,  its  universal  and  its  distinctive  part.  I  must  write  a  Philosophy  of 
Man,  and  show  the  foundation  of  religion  in  him.  In  my  days  of  lei 
sure,  when  I  am  not  hard  at  work — on  a  beautiful  Sabbath,  for  instance, 
or  in  a  moony  night,  or  one  filled  with  stars,  when  I  walk  out,  this 
burthen  presses  me  heavily.  I  must  do  or  die.  I  sit  down  to  hard  work, 
and  then  only  do  I  feel  free  from  this  tormenting  spirit ;  at  other  times 
I  am  consumed  by  self-reproach  for  the  nothings  I  have  accomplished, 
for  the  nothing  I  have  undertaken.  My  heart  beats  audibly,  so  that  my 
hand  quivers.  Hard  work  only  relieves  me  for  the  time  it  lasts.  But 
I  must  do  much  hard  work  before  I  can  approach  the  Introduction.  This 
I  am  now  preparing  for.  Still  harder  work  must  be  done  before  the  Phi 
losophy  can  come  forth,  and  much  more  before  the  crown  of  Theology  can 
be  put  on  the  wor&.  Here  is  work  for  digging,  for  flying,  and  for  rest 
ing,  still  yielding  to  the  currents  of  universal  being  that  set  through  a 
soul  that  is  pure. 

June  22. — Saw ,  who,  though  sick,  is  strong  at  his  clear  heart. 

I  suppose  his  day  and  work  are  over,  so  that  his  death  would  be  simply 
a  domestic  affair.  Oh,  that  I  may  live  like  Dr.  Channing  and  Gothe 
in  this  respect,  and  work  on  to  the  end,  with  spirits  only  mounting 
higher. 

Heard  of  a  sermon  on  the  New  Idolatry,  which,  if  I  understand  the 
extracts  rightly,  is  excessive  trust  in  the  soul.  Now,  if  this  is  the  most 
dangerous  idolatry  in  New  England,  I  am  glad.  I  fancy  there  are  very 
few  led  away  by  a  false  philosophy.  But  all  the  clergy  are  out  upon 
some  half-dozen  transcendentalists  as  if  they  were  to  set  the  world  on 
fire.  Have  not  the  clergy  always,  from  the  time  of  Constantine,  pre 
ferred  the  chivalrous  office  of  fighting  a  few  persons  who  break  the 
trammels  of  the  Church,  to  attacking  robust  sins  that  lead  off  many 
men  and  women  ?  And  is  not  the  present  position  of  the  conservative 
clergy  a  case  in  point  ? 

Write  a  sermon  on  Idolatry.  Show  that  there  is  as  much  now  as 
ever.  Idols  change  names.  No  worship  now  of  Pluto,  Neptune,  Venus, 
&c.  But  show  the  essence  of  idolatry,  viz.,  the  love  of  something,  not 
God — more  than  God. 

The  common  forms  of  it — love  of  money,  of  show,  &c.  These  are 
among  the  wicked.  But  among  the  pious,  two  things  usurp  the  place 
of  Grod :  1.  The  Bible  ;  2.  Jesus  Christ.  Show  how,  by  showing  the 
common  notions.  And  talk  with  Dr.  Francis  about  it. 

Sept.  23. — Went  to  Boston  to  attend  the  Non-Eesistant  Convention. 
Don't  agree  with  them  entirely,  but  like  their  spirit  and  upward  ten 
dency.  Like  not  their  formula  of  "  No  Human  Government."  Think 
circumstances  render  it  needful  sometimes  to  take  life.  If  a  man  attack 
me,  it  is  optional  on  my  part  to  suffer  or  resist  ;  but  should  he  attack 
my  wife,  with  the  worst  of  purposes,  why  should  I  suffer  the  wicked  to 
destroy  the  righteous,  when  I  could  save  her  by  letting  out  his  life  ? 


158  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

I  should  deprecate  the  issue  being  tendered,  but  if  it  were  tendered,  I 
have  little  doubt  which  course  would  be  revealed  to  me  as  the  true 
one. 

CHABDON  ST.  CONVENTION.  L —  doubts  the  Convention,  fears  bad 
use  will  be  made  of  truth.  Nous  verrons.  Thinks  Quincy  sincere, 
disinterested,  good.  L is  a  beautiful  soul. 

Dr.  C.  also  doubts  the  propriety  thereof,  since  it  looks  like  seeking  agi 
tation,  and  fearsthe  opinion  of  Garrison,  Quincy,  and  Maria "W.  Chapman. 
Here  again  we  shall  see.  I  have  my  own  doctrines,  and  shall  support 
them,  think  the  Convention  as  it  may.  I  look  on  the  Church  as  a  body 
of  men  and  women  getting  together  for  moral  and  religious  instruction, 
on  the  minister  as  a  moral  and  religious  teacher,  and  on  Sunday  as  a  day 
set  apart  from  work  and  common  secular  vocations.  All  of  them  are 
human  institutions.  But  each  valuable — I  would  almost  say  invaluable. 

Nov.  17,  1840. — Attended  the  "Sabbath  Ministry  and  Church 
Convention,"  of  which  I  shall  say  nothing,  for  an  account  thereof 
will  be  published  in  due  time.  I  will  only  say  that  all  my  friends 
after  the  flesh,  and  some  of  my  friends  after  the  spirit,  regretted  that 
I  had  any  agency  in  calling  the  Convention. 

Dec.  5,  1840.— Work  for  next  week. 

1.  Write  a  Sermon  on  Evil — its  power  in  the  world  and  use. 

2.  Finish  ^Eschylus. 

3.  Finish  all  the  "  little  reading  "  on  hand — to  wit,  Ozanam  on 

Dante — the  Journals,  &c. 

4.  Bead  all  I  can  find  about  JEschylus. 

5.  Go  to  Boston  once  and  see  Dr.  Channing. 

I  have  solicited  an  exchange  repeatedly  with ,  could  not  get  it ; 

with 5  and .     To  ask  either  of  these  men  again  would  be  a 

dereliction  from  Christian  self-respect.  So  let  them  pass.  I  feel  no 
ill-will  towards  any  of  them.  I  will  try soon,  for  the  experi 
ment's  sake,  and  so  with  others.  Their  answer  decides  my  course  for 
the  future.  Let  us  see !  I  should  laugh  outright  to  catch  myself 
weeping,  because  the  Boston  clergy  would  not  exchange  with  me ! 

These  are  brave  words,  but  a  soft  heart  penned  them,  and 
infected  the  page  with  its  own  self- distrust. 

Last  Leaf.— It  is  the  last  day  of  1840,  and  I  finish  this  book.  To 
day  I  finish  Sophocles,  with  the  Trachiniae,  which  is  scarcely  worthy  of 
its  author,  though  the  passage  on  the  power  of  love  is  "  haughty, 
beautiful,  and  high."  I  love  and  honour  this  poet.  What  a  portrait 
of  a  heroine  he  gives  you  in  Antigone !  But  she  is  hard  as  marble, 
she  is  all  over  a  heroine.  She  will  not  mention  her  lover's  name  when 
she  dies — not  flinch  the  tithing  of  a  hair  from  circumstances,  and 
seems  to  say  to  them,  bind  the  actual  tight  as  you  will,  the  ideal  is 
winged  with  freedom. 

Oh,  Thou  Spirit  whom  no  name  can  measure  and  no  thought  contain  ; 
Thou  to  whom  years  are  as  nothing,  and  who  art  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting— I  thank  Thee  that  my  life  still  lasts  from  year  to  year.  I 


THEODORE   PAEKER. 


159 


thank  Thee  that  my  cup  is  full  of  blessings.  But  I  would  bless  Thee 
still,  if  Thou  didst  fill  my  cup  with  grief,  and  turn  my  day  into  night. 
Tea,  0  God,  my  Father,  I  will  bless  Thee  for  whatever  Thou  shalt. 
send.  I  know  it  is  all  very  good.  I  bless  Thee  that  Thou  art  still  very 
nigh  me,  that  Thou  speakest  to  my  heart  from  year  to  year.  Thou 
kindlest  my  faith  ;  Thou  quickenest  my  love  ;  Thou  castest  down  my 
fear.  When  my  father  and  mother  forsake  me,  Thou  wilt  take  me  up. 
Oh,  my  God,  bless  me-  still  this  coming  year.  Be  not  afar  off.  May 
I  never  become  false  to  thy  gift.  Let  my  eye  be  open,  my  heart  true 
and  warm,  my  faith  pure  and  heavenly.  May  religion  dwell  in  the 
inmost  sanctuary  of  my  heart.  Let  it  be  my  daily  life,  and  wherever 
the  years  shall  find  me,  may  I  do  my  duty,  without  fear,  and  so  live 
on — lying  low  in  thy  hand  and  blessed  by  thy  goodness.  Amen. 


THE   PARSONAGE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  "New  School" — "  The  South-Boston  Sermon,  May  19, 1841— Discourse  of  Matters 
pertaining  to  Religion" — De  Wette's  "Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament." 

THE  decade  commencing  with  1830  was  a  memorable  period  in 
the  spiritual  history  of  the  liberal  men  of  Cambridge  and  Boston. 
That  was  the  neighbourhood  where  everything  on  "  tiptoe  for 
the  American  strand  "  first  planted  its  foot ;  it  still  is  early  to 
welcome  the  remotest  thought  from  many  provinces  of  human 
culture.  Here,  of  all  American  regions,  the  German  lan 
guage  was  first  received  gratefully  and  with  eagerness  for  the  * 
sake  of  its  new  literary  and  philosophic  forms.  Ingenuous 
youth  were  told  that  it  was  the  natural  language  of  infidelity 
and  spiritual  despair,  but  few  of  their  seniors  knew  enough  of  it 
to  misrepresent  it,  and  their  mental  tendency  was  distasteful  to 
the  new  thought  which  was  learning  to  wield  those  portentous 
adjectives,  "empirical"  and  "transcendental/'  It  is  not  easy 
to  trace  to  any  special  cause  this  new  impulse  to  reconsider  the 
old  grounds  of  faith.  A  few  Unitarian  scholars,  tired  of  the 
English  commentators  and  divines,  invited  into  their  study 
the  best  thought  of  other  countries  ;  but  there  was  something 
else  besides  liberal  scholarship  at  the  bottom  of  this  instinctive 
combining  of  many  ardent  youth,  bent  upon  "  New  Views/'  and 
a  "New  Church/''  Mr.  Emerson  had  just  begun  to  draw  from 
the  living  well  of  his  American  genius,  which  owed  as  little  to 
France  or  Germany  as  Concord  River  owes  to  famous  transat 
lantic  waters.  But  he  proclaimed  the  new  tendency,  and  gene 
rously  nourished  and  vindicated,  but  did  not  originate  it. 
Neither  did  Dr.  Charming,  though  his  preaching  implied  much, 
and  the  moral  fervour  of  his  protests  against  degrading  views  of 
God  and  human  nature  kindled  many  a  mind.  But  his  lack  of 


THEODORE   PARKER.  161 

wide  scholarship  indisposed  him  to  encourage  the  new  criticism, 
and  his  timidity  and  fastidious  dread  of  crudeness  kept  him 
back  from  novel  speculations.  The  "  Old  School "  complained  that 
a  parcel  of  fools  were  rushing  in  where  angels  feared  to  tread. 
A  little  Hebrew,  with  Kueinoel  and  Rosenmuller,  with  Yates  and 
Wardlaw,  and  the  sound  old  Unitarian  apologists,  with  Locke, 
and  Reid,  and  Stewart,  with  Butler,  Paley,  and  Watson,  no 
longer  appeased  these  young  Hyperions,  who  meant  to  travel  on 
the  "  high  a  priori  road/' 

That  was,  indeed,  an  epoch  which  brought  sensitive  and 
aspiring  minds  at  once  so  close  to  the  great  names,  which,  if 
mentioned,  would  present  a  series  of  Europe's  choicest  moments 
for  a  hundred  years.  Imagine  a  troop  of  New-England  boys, 
fresh  from  "  up-country  "  scenes,  as  they  plod  along  some  widen 
ing  valley,  and  come  suddenly  upon  a  line  of  beach,  where  for 
the  first  time  their  feet,  that  bring  down  meadow  scents  to  the 
new  mysterious  flavour  of  the  sea,  touch  the  edge  of  that  great 
bosom  which  heaves  with  sport  and  earnest  and  conceals  a 
myriad  unsuspected  thoughts.  No  subsequent  deliberate  classi 
fication  of  those  depths  can  make  them  forget  the  first  exaltation 
of  the  mind  as  it  struggled  to  occupy  the  new  horizon. 

No  doubt  it  produced  some  confusion  when  Leibnitz,  Spinoza, 
Kant,  Gothe,  Herder,  Schleiermacher,  Jean  Paul,  Jacobi,  and  the 
rest,  sailed  all  at  once  into  Boston  Harbour,  and  discharged  their 
freight.  Here  were  crops  which  we  had  not  grown  ;  they  might 
come  in  rotation,  but  as  yet  the  old  woods  covered  their  germs. 
The  wharves  were  littered  in  a  day  with  the  spoils  of  a  century. 
Distracted  critics  stumbled  up  and  down,  and  received  a  great 
many  tibial  bruises  in  trying  to  invoice  the  lot.  It  was  alto 
gether  beyond  any  process  of  registering.  There  was  no  patent 
thought-distributor  to  move  with  untiring  facility  through  this 
wealth  of  many-zoned  Germany,  and  sort  it  for  delivery.  We 
all  rushed  in  and  helped  ourselves. 

The    somewhat   incompetent    inspectors  withdrew  from    the 
scene,  condemning  the  whole  importation   as  impracticable.     A 
few  boys,  operating  with  straws  and  gimlets,  were  not  unseason- 
sonably  whipped  by  these  critical  officials.      But  very  soon,  and 
ever  since,  the  persons  to  whom  the  freight  had  been  consigned 
came  to  claim  and  to  store  it.     The  great  intercourse  of  thought 
is  self-adjusting,  and  the  producing  finds  the  consuming  mind. 
As  if  the  confusion  were  not  already  sufficient,  Mr.  Carlyle 
12 


162  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

must  needs  make  his  first  venture  westward,  about  this  time,  in 
"  Sartor  Resartus."  His  ship  was  at  once  pronounced,  if  a 
Dutchman  at  all,  a  phantom  Dutchman,  which  you  might  run 
down  to,  and  hail,  and  get  nothing  for  an  answer.  Such  was, 
doubtless,  the  ill-luck  of  our  admonishers,  but  other  ears  gathered 
with  little  difficulty  a  manly  and  stimulating  speech.  Mr. 
Carlyle's  Essays  were  soon  republished  ;  they  lent  courage  and 
independent  direction  to  many  minds,  to  others  nothing  but  a 
grotesque  idiom.  But  the  youthful  hours  when  thought  began 
to  grow  are  never  forgotten  :  he  made  us  feel  glad  that  we  were 
desiring  to  know  the  truth  rather  than  the  form,  and  his  electric 
temperament  of  spiritual  freedom  passed  helpfully  over  the 
expanding  mind. 

The  French  also  assisted  to  increase  this  embarrassment  of 
riches.  For,  besides  Fourier,  Leroux,  and  the  writers  of  the  Social 
istic  school,  there  came,  first,  Damiron,  then  Benjamin  Constant, 
with  his  theories  of  the  development  of  religion,  Jouffroy,  and 
Victor  Cousin,  that  brilliant  expositor  of  German  philosophers, 
who  contributed  his  famous  phrase  of  the  "  Impersonal  Reason  " 
to  the  problem  of  inspiration.  And,  in  America,  Mr.  Brownson, 
in  the  early  liberal  phases  of  his  preaching  and  writing,  was  in 
strumental  in  letting  loose  among  us  a  great  many  of  the  Gallic 
terms  and  views. 

At  first  the  Unitarians  offered  hospitality  to  this  great  migra 
tion  of  new  literary  and  philosophical  forms.  Before  their  pro 
testing  movement  became  in  turn  conservative  and  sectarian, 
there  was  a  liberal  condition  of  the  body  which  unconsciously 
served  the  purpose  of  admitting  here  the  speculations  whose 
method  and  terminology  were  foreign,  but  whose  substance  was 
really  native  to  men  proclaiming  the  dignity  of  human  nature, 
and  who  had  repelled  vilifying  doctrines.  The  new  thoughts 
should  have  been,  in  some  form  or  other,  the  legitimate  deduc 
tions  of  a  belief  in  man's  original  capacity  and  freedom.  Mr. 
Emerson  began  to  tread  this  pre-established  path  with  unbor- 
rowed  power,  before  the  neighbourhood  had  become  much  in 
fected  with  the  foreign  technicalities.  But  his  generous  claims 
in  the  soul's  behalf  seemed  exorbitant,  and  they  served,  with  his 
bold  depreciation  of  historical  religion,  to  set  critics  and  guar 
dians  on  the  watch.  His  influence,  though  it  did  not  invite, 
yet  helped  to  welcome  the  transatlantic  speculations  to  which 
his  own  views  were  persistently  attributed. 


r 

THEODORE    PARKER.  163 

But  this  was  not  entirely  just.  For  it  was  in  the  nature  of 
Unitarianism  to  develope  a  spiritual  philosophy  that  should 
claim  for  the  soul  primitive  notions  of  God,  right,  and  immor 
tality.  Cudworth,  the  preacher  of  immutable  morality,  was 
the  EDglish  representative  of  this  tendency.  It  belongs  not 
only  to  those  who  would  show  the  harmony  of  Scripture  with 
absolute  truth,  but  to  those  who  deny  that  some  doctrines  are 
scriptural,  on  the  ground  that  they  are  repugnant  to  reason. 
The  right  of  judgment  is  derived  from  ideas  in  the  Reason  which 
precede  scriptures  and  doctrines,  and  subject  them  to  review. 
The  right  of  judging  if  a  doctrine  be  scriptural  depends  upon 
the  capacity  to  discern  if  Scripture  itself  be  reasonable.  So  that 
the  Bible  itself  is  subject  to  the  ideas  which  the  Bible  is  supposed 
to  embody.  It  is  of  no  consequence  how  far  criticism  may  go 
in  this  direction  after  Reason  has  assumed  her  right.  She  her 
self  alone  can  regulate  the  extent  of  her  applicability.  This  is 
legitimate  Unitarianism.  And  it  is  also  Transcendentalism,  pro 
perly  defined. 

Thus  there  arose  a  new  school  of  Unitarianism,  that  sought 
to  found  a  philosophy,  giving  to  truth  her  own  authority,  to  the 
Bible  the  authority  of  a  record  harmonizing  with  reason,  to 
Christ  the  authority  of  displaying  what  the  soul  can  recognize 
on  its  own  evidence.  And  a  voice  or  two  was  heard  to  add, 
"and  to  reason  the  right  of  rejecting  everything  ever}7 where 
that  is  irrational/'  This  school  did  not  yet  deny  that  the 
miracles  were  wrought,  but  only  that  they  added  no  authority 
to  things  morally  and  religiously  true,  because  with  such  things 
they  had  no  essential  connection.  Nor  did  this  new  school 
deny  generally  that  some  special  divine  quality  supernaturally 
interpenetrated  the  Son  of  Man. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  representatives  of  the  old  Unitarianism, 
which  had  fought  the  Trinity  and  the  Atonement  on  virtually 
transcendental  grounds,  now  refused  to  be  implicated  farther 
with  an  independent  reason,  partly  because  they  were  sincerely 
opposed  to  its  anti-supernatural  tendency,  and  partly  because 
the  vagueness  and  misuse  of  the  new  terms  disgusted  them. 
They  said,  very  properly,  that  whoever  denies  that  a  miracle  is 
the  authority  for  Christianity,  might  as  well,  and  soon  would, 
deny  that  any  miracle  was  ever  worked.  The  semi-super- 
naturalists  vehemently  repelled  this  insinuation ;  but  it  was  well- 
founded.  For  either  reason  or  external  authority  must  rule. 


164  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

Whoever  accepts  a  premise  of  either  binds  himself   to  all  the 
consequences. 

It  is  certain  that  the  new  phrases  were  very  loosely  used. 
The  more  liberal  thought  borrowed  them  instead  of  growing  its 
own.  Such  terms,  when  adopted,  should  be  subjected  to  a  strict 
survey,  for  an  old  ship  cannot  sail  in  all  waters.  The  words 
"  transcendental,"  "  intuitive/'  "  immanent/'  "  innate  "  come 
down  to  us  from  scholastic  times,  and  every  epoch  of  thinking 
has  modified  their  meaning ;  any  theology  can  use  them  if  it  has 
the  liberty  of  adjusting  what  they  connote.  But  a  new  school 
cannot  assimilate  an  old  term  without  getting  itself  thereby 
misrepresented.  When  a  critic  in  the  interest  of  Locke,  who 
believes  that  all  ideas  are  derived  from  the  various  sensations  of 
experience,  hears  the  proclamation  that  perception  of  truth  is 
"  intuitive/'  that  ideas  are  "  innate/'  that  the  Word  which  lighteth 
every  man  is  "Impersonal,"  he  has  all  the  advantage  of  vis 
inertice  in  his  question,  "What  do  you  mean  by  those  words?" 
To  define  them  is  a  delicate  operation,  and  the  longing  for  a 
spiritual  philosophy  preceded  the  careful  framing  of  a  code  of 
signals  that  should,  without  the  possibility  of  misleading,  be 
current  everywhere  in  the  great  commerce  of  thought.  What 
is  an  "  innate  idea,"  for  instance  ?  The  phrase  can  bear  three 
interpretations  : — 1st.  An  original  divine  mark  fully  made  on  the 
soul,  to  appear  in  the  sympathetic  heat  of  experience.  2nd.  A 
divine  germ,  predestined  to  unfold  by  gradual  stages  if  the  climate 
be  favourable.  3rd.  A  mere  capacity  to  deduce  from  the  inward 
and  the  outward  life  some  absolute  conceptions  of  God  and  right. 
But  men  are  not  safer  in  an  empirical  philosophy  because  acci 
dents  result  from  the  illegitimate  and  careless  handling  of  abstract 
words. 

Some  of  the  Unitarians,  however,  thought  so  ;  for  no  possible 
definition  of  such  phrases  as  "cognition  of  absolute  ideas," 
"impersonal  reason,"  "a  priori  evidence  of  truth,"  could  pacify 
their  sincere  supernaturalisrn.  A  few  who  had  good-naturedly 
assisted  at  letting  in  the  foreigners,  were  now  aghast  at  their 
brogue  and  uricouthness.  The  shew-bread  began  to  disappear, 
and  the  sacred  utensils  were  handled  in  a  playful  manner  that 
boded  no  good  to  little  sentiments  and  proprieties,  if  the  new 
importation  were  left  to  run  at  large.  The  orthodox  began  to 
ask  unpleasant  questions  ;  and  if  a  Unitarian  undertook  to  pilot 
** over-soul/'  or  "immanence,"  or  "spontaneity,"  through  Cam- 


THEODORE    PARKER.  165 

bridge  and  Boston,  get  for  them  New-England  home-spun,  and 
attempt  their  introduction  in  respectable  quarters,  the  watchful 
Calvinistic  shoulder  went  up  to  the  ear.  To  such  ominous  shrugs  a 
man  is  very  sensitive  when  he  is  just  on  the  point  of  being  admitted 
into  recognised  circles.  If  he  is  only  an  amateur  at  singularity, 
he  promptly  drops  his  notion  and  becomes  fanatically  conventional. 

There  were  some  of  these  amateurs,  who  for  a  time  used  the 
phrases  of  progress  and  spiritual  freedom  with  a  grand,  ingenuous 
air,  which  seemed  to  extend  the  patronage  of  Christianity  to 
Transcendentalism.  They  lamented  over  the  formalism  of  the 
Church  and  the  decay  of  interior  religion.  Sometimes  they 
magnificently  asked  the  brethren  if  their  hearts  were  not  large 
and  tolerant  enough  to  hold  Mr.  Emerson  and  all  of  that 
ilk.  They  were  young  then,  and  had  a  sentimental  feeling 
for  liberty,  to  which  the  new  phrases  lent  dignity  and  picturesque- 
ness.  They  were  just  baring  their  breasts  with  abandon  to  the 
universe,  and  calling  to  the  "  over-soul "  to  come  on,  when  Mr. 
Parker's  sermon  of  "  The  Transient  and  Permanent/'  struck  their 
bellying  sails  with  a  sudden  dismay,  and  they  were  never  hoisted 
more. 

That  revolutionary  sermon  also  converted  a  good  deal  of  lively, 
bantering  criticism  of  historical  religion  into  the  most  inflexible 
conservatism.  Unitarian  scholars  had  indulged  a  light  way  in 
private  of  talking  about  the  miracles,  although  they  really 
accepted  the  greater  part  of  them  as  facts,  and  nominally  held 
them  as  a  basis  of  authority.  But  criticism  had  broken  just  far 
enough  with  the  old  reverence  to  render  a  jest  on  Balaam's  ass, 
the  possessed  swine,  the  money  in  the  fish's  mouth,  not  inadmis 
sible  on  week-days.  And  men  spoke  freely  to  each  other  of  the 
Orientalisms  of  the  New  Testament,  among  which  they  would 
sometimes  class,  not  only  the  Conception  and  the  Star  in  the 
East,  but  also  the  Transfiguration  and  the  Ascension.  Mr.  Par 
ker  did  not  understand  this  raillery.  If  he  shared  the  smile,  it 
was  from  a  strong  and  ever-deepening  conviction  that  Sunday 
was  as  good  a  day  as  Monday  on  which  to  expose  these  unhis- 
torical  elements.*  Fancy  his  astonishment  at  the  stern  and 
sudden  orthodoxy  which  seized  the  liberal  circle  where  he  used  to 
hear  this  half-considered  talk.  This  must  be  remembered  when 

*  The  specimens  which  have  been  collected  by  Mr.  Parker  point  to  private  interviews 
with  the  friends  whose  names  are  also  given,  and  not  to  any  discussions  held  at  the  meet 
ings  of  Associations  or  other  clerical  gatherings. 


166  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

he  is  found  afterwards  hinting  at  a  scepticism  which  uttered  in 
the  study  what  it  was  unwilling  to  utter  in  the  pulpit.  It  was 
not  really  that,  but  it  seemed  so  to  him ;  for  he  soon  saw  how 
untenable  was  the  assumption  of  selecting  miracles  to  suit  your 
taste,  and  preserving  one  set  for  banter  and  another  for  belief. 
When  the  mythological  element  is  once  admitted  the  right  of 
choice  expires. 

He  and  his  friends  were  really  afloat  upon  this  principle  :  they 
without  knowing  it.  What  was  their  perturbation  when  this 
island  on  which  they  bivouacked  and  built  their  crackling,  merry 
fires,  began  to  move  off  to  sea  !  He  might  go  voyaging  in  that 
fashion,  but  they  scrambled  for  the  deck  again,  and  were  glad  to 
feel  the  old  ballast  underneath. 

TO   WM.    SILSBEE. 

April  23,  1841. 

I  am  no  Pantheist,  nor  ever  was.  My  friend says  "  he  burns 

between  two  fires,  Anthropomorphism  "  (which  is  the  theistical  side  of 
Calvinism),  "and  Pantheism"  (which  is  the  religious  side  of  nature, 
as  Coleridge  would  say  if  he  were  here.)  Now,  for  my  part,  I  find  a 
tertium  quid,  and  am  no  more  troubled  by  Pantheism  or  Anthropomor 
phism  than,  at  noonday,  the  evening  and  morning  twilight  trouble  me. 
The  whole  difficulty  comes  of  attempting  to  get  a  logical  and  definite 
notion  of  God.  The  sentiment  of  religion  in  a  man  would  naturally 
come  at  first  to  Anthropomorphism,  for  the  human  is  the  highest  form 
known  to  us  ;  just  as  an  ox,  had  he  religion,  would  think  of  God  in  the 
form  of  an  ox,  counting  that  the  highest.  Hence  the  stories  in  the 
Old  Testament  among  the  Greeks,  Hindoos,  &c.  Then  reason  looks  at 
the  stars,  and  says,  God  is  not  like  a  man.  It  feels  God  is  infinite,  so  it 
attempts  to  separate  from  the  idea  all  that  is  finite, — 1,  the  human  form  ; 
2,  passion ;  3,  memory,  &c.,  and  so  on  with  each  attribute  of  the  finite,  till 
it  comes  at  last  to  make  God  nothing  but  an  abstraction,  of  which  even 
being  cannot  be  predicated.  Plato  got  up  so  high  one  day,  and  Hegel 
says,  "  Seyn  und  JSTicht-seyn  "  are  the  same  thing — no  difference  be 
tween  God's  leing  and  being  not. 

But  neither  the  head  nor  the  heart  will  subsist  on  abstractions  ;  so 
they  say  the  infinite  concretizes  itself  in  nature,  has  no  consciousness 
except  through  the  consciousness  of  individuals.  "  God  first  comes  to 
consciousness  in  (Adam)  man ;  to  se/f-consciousness  in  Christ,  who  is 
the  sum  total  of  mankind,"  says  a  Hegelian.  So  God  never  could  say 
"  I,"  nor  distinguish  between  the  divine  "  me  "  and  "  not  me,"  till  the 
birth  of  Jesus  Christ.  But  with  all  reverence  for  philosophy,  I  would 
ask,  "  Who  told  him  this  ?  "  I  think  the  instinctive  feeling  and  reason 
also  lead  direct  to  God — God  all- wise,  all-powerful,  all-good — who  is  the 
good,  the  beautiful,  the  true.  But  they  do  not  define  him,  except  so  far 
as  to  distinguish  the  idea  of  God  from  all  other  ideas,  either  actual  or 
possible.  Love,  wisdom,  &c.,  in  Him  who  made  the  stars,  must  be  very 


THEODORE    PARKER.  167 

different  from  what  I  feel  and  know.  Now  I  bow  to  this  Being  and 
live  in  him,  but  I  cannot  "  by  searching  find  out  God  unto  perfection," 
i.e.,  perfectly.  We  see  that  there  is  nothing  but  the  Creator  and  the 
Creation.  I  feel  no  desire,  as  some  do,  to  attempt  to  simplify  the 
matter  still  more,  and  find  only  a  Creator.  Creation  is  to  me  the  glass 
through  which  I  see  God.  I  can  know  much  about  the  manifestations 
of  the  Creator  in  the  Creation ;  but  can  only  know  of  G-od  that  He  is 
perfect. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

GOD. — God  is  in  the  soul  of  man,  and  gives  us  all  the  life  we  live. 
Reason  is  not  personal,  but  is  a  great  plane,  which  cuts  the  centre  of  all 
souls — the  larger  the  soul,  the  greater  portion  of  the  one  and  indivisible 
God  is  intercepted  thereby.  The  life  of  God  is  in  my  soul :  it  is  vain 
that  you  tell  me  of  God  out  of  me.  The  senses  wish  for  sucli  a  God  ; 
they  find  him,  for  all  they  perceive  is  but  the  varied  deity.  Light  and 
beautiful  forms  are  God  to  the  eye,  perfumes  to  the  smell,  and  so  of  the 
rest.  But  the  one  God,  I  find  and  hear  of  in  my  soul,  all  nature  is  his 
dress,  stars  spangle  his  robe  and  light  is  but  his  garment.  Oh,  Thou 
ever-present,  I  feel  Thee  evermore !  There  is  nothing  where  Thou  art 
not.  Oh,  all  in  all !  I  adore  Thee,  and  melt  with  blissful  tears  into  the 
deep  of  Thee ! 

The  following  extracts  mark  the  tendency  of  his  thought  at 
this  time  ;  how  earnest  it  is,  and  palpably  in  the  interest  of 
religion : 

Christianity  is  a  field  on  which  may  be  raised  the  strangest  crops — 
wood,  hay  and  stubble,  wheat  and  beans.  The  soil  remains,  the  crop 
varies. 

The  Christianity  which  many  men  embrace  is  a  very  poor  thing ;  a 
belief  in  the  stories  of  the  New  Testament.  These  stories  corrupt  the 
truth.  None  of  them  rest  on  evidence.  Jesus  lived,  taught,  was  cruci 
fied.  His  life  was  higher,  I  presume,  than  any  one  has  ever  described 
it.  A  great  soul  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  Christian  movement ;  men 
do  not  tell  such  stories  save  of  great  men.  But  the  miracles — that 
contradict  the  natural  law — such  as  the  transubstantiation.  of  bread, 
water,  &c.,the  sending  the  devil  into  the  swine,  the  resurrection  of  dead 
men,  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  himself — all  these  have  nothing  to  do 
with  Christianity.  I  do  not  know  what  to  make  of  them. 

But  &ris*I  feel,  that  the  time  is  coming  when  men  will  wonder  quite 
as  much  at  the  Christianity  of  the  nineteenth  century  as  we  wonder  at 
that  of  the  ninth  century  after  Christ,  or  that  of  the  nineteenth  century 
before  Christ.  The  attempt  of  the  times  is  now  twofold,  1,  to  ration 
alize  Christianity  ;  2,  to  Christianize  reason.  The  scholastics  began  this 
in  the  eleventh  century.  The*  fathers  took  Christianity  in  its  enveloped 
state,  and  developed  it ;  so  they  were  Patres,  as  Hegel  says.  Hence  the 
Church,  controversies,  synods,  and  persecution.  The  scholastics  took 
the  speculative  Christianity  they  found  in  the  fathers,  the  councils,  &c., 
and  methodized  it,  and  attempted  to  reconcile  it  with  reason.  Scholasti- 


168  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

cism  is  the  attempt  to  marry  philosophy  and  religion,  to  find  a  principle 
in  man  answering  to  each  doctrine  of  Christianity.  They  did  not  first 
ask,  "What  is  Christianity  ?  nor  second,  What  is  man  ?  So  they  did  not 
marry  Christianity  to  philosophy,  but  only  a  saucy  kitchen  wench  to 
fancy.  Now  is  the  question,  What  is  Christianity*?  We  are  to  hunt 
up  the  bride,  and  then,  if  they  will,  to  marry  them.  The  scholastics 
were  not  Patres  but  Doctores.  We  have  neither.  We  are  Scrutatores. 
We  need,  1.  An  anthropology.  2.  A  critical  history  of  religion. 

Christianity  is  progressive,  because  it  is  not  positive,  but  natural.  We 
may  say  its  main  idea  is  the  incarnation,  reconciliation,  the  God-man, 
union  of  the  absolute  and  the  finite,  or  a  perfect  character  for  all ;  these 
mean  but  the  same  thing,  as  I  understand  it.  Christianity,  therefore, 
is  the  hope  of  the  world,  the  desire  of  all  nations. 

1.  Christianity  may  be  considered  as  objective  in  the  whole,  and  so  as 
a  process  in  God's  development  of  Himself.     The  supernaturalist  is 
obliged,  if  logically  consistent,  so  to  view  it.     This  was  the  view  which 
prevailed  in  the  Catholic  Church  from  the  Council  of  N"ice  to  the  Re 
formation,  and  still  prevails.     The  idea  is  this — God  created  the  uni 
verse,  the  angels  were  a  part  of  it — all  was  perfect ;  the  angels  fell, 
they  must  be  replaced.     It  was  tacitly  supposed  that  God  could  not 
create  de  novo  angels,  so  men  were  made.     But  they  also  fell ;  still  the 
angel's  place,  and  man's  place  also,  was  not  filled.     An  instinct  of  per 
fection  lay  in  the  Divine  mind,  which  led  to  the  restoration  of  man 
(and  of  the  angels  also,  thinks  Origen.)      He  must  restore  man,  so 
Mosaism  as  the  preparatory  step,  and  Christianity  as  the  completion  of 
the  work,  i.e.,  both  were  phases  which  God  must  assume  in  the  process 
of  his  self-development.     To  me  it  savours  of  arrogance  to  decide  in 
matters  that  are  too  high  for  me.     "  Hardly  do  we  guess  aright,"  &c. 

2.  Christianity  may  be  regarded  as  subjective  as  a  whole,  that  is,  a 
phase  of  human  nature  in  its  development.  I  think  this  the  true  notion, 
if  we  do  not  separate  the  divine  too  much  from  the  human.     If  we 
allow  that  God  still  creates  as  ever,  still  "  worketh  hitherto,"  perhaps 
this  the  true  view.     It  is  mortifying  to  human  pride  to  look  back  and 
see  the  crop  of  errors  which  have  grown  on  the  field  of  Christian  specu 
lation.     It  serves,  however,  to  quicken  one's  humility ;  for  each  of  the 
Fathers  in  the  first  age,  each  of  the  Doctors  in  the  middle  age,  each  of 
the  Scrutators  in  this  age,  each  heretic  in  all  ages,  has  been  certain  that 
he  was  right.     Where  they  failed,  what  modest  man  shall  lift  up  a  pre 
sumptuous  thought  ?     The  history  of  thought  teaches  us   all   to   be 
modest.     The  great  truths  of  morality  and  religion  are  read  us  daily  in 
New  England  or  New  Zealand  .by  consciousness  and  faith — we  need 
make  no  mistake  ;  but  when  the  meddling  intellect  comes  in  to  do  its 
work,  what  theologies  we  form !    The  Fathers  milked  the  ram,  the  Doc 
tors  held  the  pail,  the  Scrutatores  are  divided  on  the  question  to  whom 
the  milk  belongs. 

Anselm,  no  doubt,  thought  he  had  solved  all  the  mysteries  of  Chris 
tianity  in  his  "  Cur  Deus  homo  ?"  Kant,  Hegel,  and  Conradi  have 
thoug'ht  the  same  of  their  systems.  But  who,  alas !  shall  mould  for  us 
the  cup  in  which  a  single  age  can  drink  the  water  of  life  ? 

With  most  men  there  is  a  little  of  religion,  with  some  there  is  much  ; 
this  is  only  saying  that  there  is  more  or  less  of  it  among  men.  But 
thought  about  religion  is  quite  another  thing. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  169 

He  translates  with  astonishment  a  few  choice  paragraphs  of  a 
German  book  which  presents  Hegelian-Evangelical  views  : — 

The  first  point  which  comes  to  be  considered  in  this  connection  is  that 
pure  logical  or  metaphysical  one  contained  in  the  proposition  which 
stands  at  the  head  of  Hegel's  religious  philosophy,  viz.,  that  God,  as 
Absolute  Spirit,  is  Triune.  In  so  far  as  God  is  spirit,  it  belongs  to  His 
nature  to  reveal  and  objectivate  Himself ;  but  it  is  likewise  equally 
essential  that,  in  this  separation,  He  should  remain  identical  with  Him 
self.  There  must,  therefore,  take  place  a  separation  in  God,  without 
which  there  would  be  no  process,  and  therefore  no  life  in  God ;  but  this 
separation  is  immediately  neutralized  in  the  Divine  idea.  Here  is  no 
serious,  deep,  penetrating  differentiation,  but  that  first  attains  its  rights 
in  the  Son,  who  has  proceeded  from  God,  and  stands  beside  Him,  as  the 
world,  or  the  finite  God,  in  free  subsistency ;  but  from  this  separation 
and  divulsion  He  comes  again  to  unity  with  God,  and  returns  to  the 
Absolute  Spirit  which  is  identical  with  itself. 

Upon  this  verbal  juggling  Mr.  Parker  remarks  : — 

Here  is  a  subject  which  has  occupied  the  attention  of  the  greatest 
minds  of  the  world,  from  Hierocles  down  to  Hegel.  Yet  to  me  the 
whole  question  seems  to  rest  on  a  false  position,  viz.,  that  Jesus  of  Naza 
reth  was  the  Supreme  Being.  Admit  that  he  was  a  man — the  noblest, 
best  man  who  ever  lived ;  admit  that  if  I  do  my  duty  as  faithfully,  I 
shall  be  equally  accepted  by  God — the  mystery  is  all  over.  I  am  per 
petually  astonished  that  men  should  reason  so — on  such  premises.  Still 
more,  that,  starting  from  such  premises,  they  will  plunge  into  the  sea  of 
Deity,  and  tell  us  the  metaphysics,  and  the  physics,  too,  of  God.  The 
history  of  man's  body  is  a  series  of  abuse  and  war,  wrong  and  suffering. 
The  history  of  man's  mind,  a  story  of  delusions — brilliant  thinking  on 
false  assumptions.  It  is  a  game  that  serves  to  pass  the  time  and  sharpen 
the  faculties,  but  it  is  played  for  straws.  The  victor  gains — nothing.  It 
seems,  in  the  history  of  Theology,  as  if  there  was  a  tertium  quid  between 
a  lie  and  the  truth  ;  as  if  the  opposite  of  a  lie  was  also  a  lie,  and  not 
truth ;  as  if  truth  and  falsehood  were  the  two  extremes  of  a  tertium  quid, 
and  the  real  way  was  deemed  to  be  between  them  both. 

There  was  nothing  in  his  mind  or  education  that  could  sym 
pathize  with  the  fruitless  subtleness  of  some  metaphysical  schools. 
His  theology  did  not  need  to  be  shored  up  by  them ;  they  were 
alike  distasteful  to  his  plain,  strong  understanding,  and  to  his 
humanity,  It  is  evident  that  his  late  studies  were  preparing 
him  for  the  "  Discourse  of  the  Transient  and  Permanent  in 
Christianity,"  in  which  a  simple  intuitive  feeling  speaks  through 
a  well-instructed  mind. 

That  sermon,  which  conjured  bigotry,  liberality  and  ama- 
teurship  into  their  proper  shapes,  was  preached  at  the  ordination 
of  Mr.  Shackford  at  South  Boston,  on  the  19th  of  May,  1841. 
The  occasion  passed  off  without  any  preliminary  stir.  The  vener- 


170  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

able  clergyman  who  offered  the  ordaining  prayer,  recognised 
the  heresy,  and  petitioned  that  the  young  incumbent  might  have 
a  living  faith  in  a  Son  of  God  of  Divine  works  and  nature. 
But  beyond  this  the  pulpit  and  the  pews  made  no  sign.  One 
person  rose  during  the  discourse  and  retired,  whether  on  account 
of  a  badly  ventilated  building,  or  a  heresy  ventilated  but  too 
well,  remains  unknown  to  this  day.  After  the  services  a  good 
many  clergymen  expressed  admiration  for  the  discourse,  with  the 
qualifications  that  might  have  been  expected.  And  to  all  appear 
ance  it  was  about  to  be  consigned  to  that  limbo  of  imperfect 
sympathies  whither  so  many  of  Mr.  Parker's  productions  had 
gone  before. 

He  had  often  preached  and  written  things  that  were  quite  as 
radically  defective  when  tested  by  any  theology  that  admits  the 
supernatural  element.,  It  was  not  one  of  his  most  energetic  ser 
mons,  by  any  means,  for  he  had  written  it  during  a  week  of 
langour  and  illness.  It  was  diffuse,  and  too  rhetorical.  It  nei 
ther  accepted  nor  rejected  the  miracles,  and  the  language  held 
towards  the  person  Christ  was  vague.  Its  positive  merit  was 
a  warm  and  enthusiastic  preference  for  permanent  spiritual  life 
to  transient  theological  forms.  But  Dr.  Channing,  at  least,  had 
enforced  the  same  vital  distinction.  He,  too,  would  have  set  free 
the  growing  soul  from  the  doctrines  of  an  outworn  past,  so  that 
intelligence  might  always  preserve  its  chartered  right  to  build  the 
house  for  the  inner  life  to  occupy.  And  everybody  heartily 
accepted  that  tendency  which  Mr.  Parker  strove  to  embody  in  his 
sermon. 

Still,  it  was  a  revolutionary  sermon,  for  its  negative  portion 
left  some  logical  inferences  to  be  made  from  its  positive  state 
ments,  which  were  not  clearly  seen  at  first.  If  Christ  is  inspired 
by  means  of  a  law  which  makes  the  same  inspiration  possible  to 
all  men,  the  supernatural  distinction  of  his  nature  is  no  longer 
credible.  The  denial  of  miracles  and  of  every  exclusive  element 
of  divinity,  is  only  a  question  of  time  and  boldness  Were  the 
Unitarians  ready  to  accept  all  that  lay  latent  in  the  discourse, 
as  well  as  all  which  was  patent  for  the  world  to  read  ?  And  how 
was  their  qualified  sympathy  to  be  interpreted?  When  these 
questions  were  asked  by  some  orthodox  gentlemen,  who  did  not 
care  for  a  reply,  as  they  intended  only  to  embarrass  the  Unitarians, 
and  force  them  to  accept  or  repel  Mr.  Parker,  it  became  necessary- 
to  issue  vigorous  manifestoe  s  of  belief.  Sympathy  with  one  por 


THEODOEE    PARKER.  171 

tion  of  the  discourse  was  then  more  firmly  expressed  by  a  few, 
while  the  majority  vigorously  denounced  its  anti-supernatural 
tendency.  Clergymen  began  to  define  their  theological  positions. 
Necessity  drove  them  into  a  sudden  consciousness  of  the  paramount 
importance  of  a  Christianity  supernaturally  revealed  and  attested. 
No  doubt  this  had  been  sincerely  deemed  important  before,  but 
the  sermon  compelled  them  to  see  that  there  had  been  too  much 
amiable  concession  to  the  excellence  of  spiritual  views.  That 
sermon  really  created  an  opportunity  to  see  precisely  the  reverse, 
that  these  spiritual  views  might  become  the  positive  life  of  a  sect 
which  had  hitherto  only  protested  against  bad  doctrines,  and  that 
religion,  rescued  from  all  kinds  of  empiricism,  might  win  a  sound 
philosophy,  a  more  ardent  piety,  a  bold  and  warm  philanthropy, 
at  the  hands  of  these  men,  fresh  from  their  good  fight,  and  eager 
to  reap  its  glorious  advantages.  What  liberal  subjects  were  lan 
guishing  then  to  be  organized  and  led  !  What  causes  of  justice 
and  pure  morals,  and  the  dear  country's  vital  hope,  Anti-Slavery, 
yearning  to  be  welcomed  by  the  intelligence  and  spirit  of  a  great 
religious  party !  Instead  of  occupying  this  great  future,  the 
Unitarians  sent  a  few  exiles  forth  to  the  whitening  fields. 

But  it  is  better  to  attempt  a  narrative  of  history  than  to  pick 
a  quarrel  with  it.  Mr.  Parker's  sermon  and  its  amplification, 
the  "  Discourse  of  Religion/'  which  soon  followed,  was  a  peremp 
tory  summons  to  the  Unitarians  to  evacuate  their  thin  didactic 
lines  and  come  over  to  him.  They  fell  back  in  alarm,  to  select 
their  own  position  more  carefully,  and  to  remain  there  entrenched. 
He  did  not  issue  an  invitation  for  fraternal  co-operation  in  a 
reform  of  theology  and  a  renewal  of  piety.  A  tea-party  or  a 
picnic  may  be  inaugurated  upon  those  terms,  but  not  Protestant 
ism.  He  stated  the  problems  of  religion,  of  the  Church,  and 
of  society  in  sonorous  and  uncompromising  phrases,  and  was  so 
possessed  by  his  subjects  that  he  disregarded  some  points  of  taste 
and  of  religious  observance  about  which  people  are  sensitive. 
His  intuitive  beliefs  stepped  forth  fully  armed,  in  revolutionary 
mien,  from  the  theology  which  hitherto  he  had  only  tolerated. 
In  breaking  with  it,  he  displayed  all  his  faults  and  virtues  with 
a  child's  sincerity,  impetuously  rushing  forward  to  claim  recog 
nition  for  his  dear  convictions  ;  with  strong  hand  pushing  to  the 
right  and  left  what  barred  his  way.  Were  the  Unitarians  ready 
to  recognise  this  new  revolution  fresh  risen,  with  lustihood  and 
menace,  from  Lexington  Common  ?  They  were  not.  They  did 


172  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

not  yield  to  the  more  silvery  summons  of  Mr.  Emerson.  It  was 
a  historical  necessity  that  the  personality  of  the  appeal  should 
enforce  a  personality  of  opposition. 

Thus  commenced  that  controversy,  the  details  of  which  it 
would  be  no  longer  fruitful  to  recall.  It  is  plain  to  see  why  Mr. 
Parker  suffered  so  much  at  the  sudden  loss  of  scholarly  and 
genial  friends,  and  why  he  exaggerated  the  enmity  of  the  genuine 
Conservatives.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  he  should  have  despised 
the  timidity  which  could  preserve  its  spurious  liberality  only 
during  the  term  of  amiable  neutrality  which  his  own  clear  voice 
broke  up  for  ever.  He  suffered  when  old  friends  refused  to  ex 
change  with  him ;  he  jealously  counted  the  precious  names  of 
those  who  yet  remained.  His  heart  was  too  tender  to  pass  all 
these  things  by.  He  bore  it  out  of  the  conflict  into  comparative 
quiet  and  the  solace  of  new  friendships,  but  the  broken  names 
still  hung  in  it  and  kept  their  festering  hold.  He  remembered 
too  vividly,  and  the  old  griefs  came  often  straying  into  his  beau 
tiful  speech.  Charmed  hearers  felt  that  the  call  to  pity  was  an 
interruption  to  the  inspiring  thought.  But  these  passion-flowers 
never  drew  malignant  sap  from  the  past,  of  which  they  were  the 
emblems. 

The  Unitarians  forgot  a  great  many  indignant  words  which 
their  leaders  had  uttered  when  the  orthodox  refused  to  continue 
the  fellowship  of  exchange  and  ministerial  intercourse.  And 
their  plea  was  that  the  old  controversy  arose  from  a  difference 
within  the  limits  of  Christianity,  but  that  the  new  one  was 
between  Christianity  and  something  else.  Was  not  this  assuming 
the  very  point  at  issue  ?  And  the  orthodox  never  allowed  their 
distinction  ;  but  had  previously  declared  that  men  who  denied 
the  Trinity,  the  Atonement,  and  Original  Depravity  were  out 
side  of  Christianity.  If  a  man  is  permitted  to  decide  that  he 
is  inside  anything,  he  can  put  his  head  through  his  own  assump 
tion,  and  others  will  appear  to  him  outside. 

But  this  inconsistency  was  sincerely  held,  because  the  Unita 
rians  venerated  Christ  as  a  teacher,  having  discarded  him  as  a 
person  of  the  Trinity  and  a  sacrificial  agent.  They  struggled  to 
oppose  a  great  authoritative  teacher,  the  Son  of  Man  and  of 
God,  to  the  mysterious  doctrines  of  Calvinism.  To  construct 
an  adequate  idea  of  such  a  person,  through  whom  men  are  to  be 
saved  by  the  more  rational  process  of  believing  his  remedial 
truth,  it  was  necessary  to  secure  the  conditions  of  infallibility 


THEODORE    PARKER.  173 

and  authority  for  the  truth  which  is  to  save.  The  infallibility 
was  provided  in  special  inspiration,  the  authority  was  claimed 
under  miraculous  attesting  acts.  It  was  objected  to  Mr. 
Parker,  that  without  this  supernatural  basis  the  idea  of  a  divine 
teacher  could  not  be  maintained.  In  this  respect,  then,  Unita- 
rianism  was  quite  as  consistent  as  its  doctrine. 

The  newspapers  swarmed  with  notices  of  the  South  Boston 
sermon,  written  generally  in  ignorance  of  the  philosophical 
points  which  these  great  religious  themes  involve.  The  theolo 
gical  papers  exercised  their  ancient  privileges.  Editors  penned 
misleading  articles,  and  correspondents  sent  in  contributions  of 
laical  piety.  A  few  conservative  Unitarians  defended  Mr. 
Parker's  liberty  of  prophesying,  and  in  attacking  his  doctrines 
did  not  misrepresent  them.  Others  were  not  so  fortunate. 

Divinity  students  must  also  splinter  their  brittle  quills  against 
the  shaggy  breast  of  this  "  Orson  of  Parsons."  Some  of  them 
lived  to  know  better,  and  were  drawn  near  enough  to  feel  the 
beating  of  that  generous  heart.  Thus,  for  instance,  did  one,  in 
discharging  his  callow  petulance,  disarm  himself  and  fall  a 
speedy  prey  to  a  friendship  that  led  to  a  better  appreciation  of 
the  truths  involved  : — 

What,  then,  has  Mr.  Parker  done  for  us  ?  He  has  with  justice  anni 
hilated  the  Transient,  but  where  is  the  Permanent  ?  The  path  he 
pointed  out  does  not  conduct  to  the  goal.  We  miss  the  substance  for 
a  shadow ;  Revelation  itself  and  Holy  AVrit  shrink  away  at  the  presence 
of  an  Impersonal  Eeason.  Is  love  to  Grod  and  love  to  man,  intuition, 
instinct,  the  only  Permanent  ?  Can  Revelation  afford  us  nothing  else  ? 
Where  are  all  our  hopes  of  repentance,  regeneration — our  assurances 
of  immortality  ?  And  where,  too,  all  this  time,  is  Christ  ?  Our  moor 
ings  are  all  cast  loose !  We  had  already  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Holy 
Land — we  felt  its  celestial  breath  upon  our  souls — swiftly  and  sure 
each  little  bark  was  making  for  its  destined  haven,  when,  with  one 
mighty  upheaving  from  some  Tartarean  depth,  we  are  cast  back  into 
the  infinite  void — into  primeval  chaos — no  Christ,  no  religion ;  only 
some  grim-smiling,  sinister  Impersonal  Reason,  brooding  over  the  vast 
abyss.  ^ 

It  is  the  divine  privilege  of  youth  and  a  good  constitution  to 
get  well  rid  of  such  perilous  stuff  as  that. 

TO   DR.  FRANCIS. 

Away-down  East,  Aug.  26,  1841. 
MY    MOST    EXCELLENT    EBIEND,    MOST    SAGACIOUS,    AND    WISE,    AND 

CHRISTIAN, — I  wish  you  were  here  to  enliven  the  solitude  of  the  wil 
derness  with  your  talk  and  your  laugh.  But  here  I  am  alone  among 


.  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

the  "  salvages."  I  have  been  travelling  on  foot  and  alone  "  in  these 
diggins  "  for  several  days.  Yesterday  I  walked  35  miles :  to-day  22 
and  rode  18  ;  and  from  these  remote  quarters  of  the  world  I  send*  you 
a  word. 

In  the  history  of  religions,  which  do  you  take  to  be  the  true  notion : 
was  this  the  order  in  which  the  human  race  "evolved"  itself,  viz. — 1, 
Fetichism  ;  2,  Polytheism  ;  3,  Monotheism  ;  or  was  a  part  of  mankind 
monotheistic  from  the  beginning  ?  This  involves  the  question  of  civili 
zation.  Was  mankind  (or  a  part  of  the  race)  created  in  the  civilized 
state,  and  have  the  others  fallen,  or  was  man  created  savage,  and  has  he 
gradually  emerged  from  this  state  ?  The  Germans,  Eichhorn,  Herder, 
and  others,  think  man  had  no  language  at  first  (following  Monboddo  in 
this),  but  gradually  developed  the  faculty  of  speech.  They,  therefore, 
ought  consistently  to  say  man  began  savage  ;  his  religious  progress  was 
1,  Fetichism ;  2,  Polytheism  ;  3,  Monotheism. 

Now  there  is  much  in  history  to  confirm  this  latter  opinion ;  such  as 
the  state  of  theology  in  the  oldest  nations  at  the  time  of  the  earliest 
historical  notices.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  much  to  confound  and 
overthrow  this  notion,  which  presents  itself  very  obviously.  Besides, 
all  the  metaphysical  arguments  tend  the  other  way,  viz.,  to  the  notion 
that  part  of  the  race  at  Creation  was  in  a  civilized  state.  What  do  you 
think  of  this  idea  :  that  different  races  were  created  in  different  degrees 
of  civilization — some  in  Eetichism,  even  in  the  inferior  degrees  of  it,  as 
it  is  now  found  in  Australia  ;  others  in  Polytheism  ;  and  even  some  in 
Monotheism  ?  I  feel  somewhat  interested  in  this  question,  but  sup 
pose  it  cannot  be  solved  even  ideally,  much  less  tactically  (as  the 
Germans  say). 

I  am  writing  this  in  the  midst  of  a  great  crowd  in  a  tavern  reading- 
room,  and  there  is  no  little  buzzing  all  around  me.  It  is  queer  to  hear 
men  at  the  far  end  of  this  state  talk  of  going  east,  and  of  down  east,  as 
if  they  lived  on  the  Missouri.  I  asked  one  of  them  what  he  meant  by 
going  down  east.  He  said,  "  I  once  went  down  among  the  Blue-noses 
(i.e.  into  New  Brunswick),  and  there  they  talked  also  of  going  east; 
so  I  went  down  to  the  point  of  Nova  Scotia  (the  very  jurnping-off 
place),  and  even  there  they  talked  of  going  east!  " 

The  blunt  and  distasteful  way  in  which  he  sometimes  uttered 
his  criticism,  furnished  the  persons  who  would  not  be  touched 
by  his  real  spirit  with  a  convenient  reason  for  avoiding  him. 
Doubtless  many  who  could  sympathise  with  the  pure,  enthu 
siastic  thought,  were  disturbed  by  some  of  his  uncalculating 
rhetoric.  And  among  his  old  friends  were  to  be  found  a  few, 
who,  becoming  suddenly  enveloped  in  the  startling  publicity  of 
his  views,  declared  that  it  was  not  the  light  which  hurt  their 
eyes,  but  the  rudeness  with  which  he  threw  the  shutters  open. 
They  complained  of  his  spirit.  That  was  an  unfortunate  word 
to  use,  for  his  spirit  was  the  most  unexceptionable  part  of  him  ; 
his  phrases  sometimes  misinterpreted  it.  How  common  are  all 


THEODORE    PARKER.  175 

the  faults  of  style,  how  rare  is  the  spirit  which  counts  all  the 
fashions  of  this  world,  and  of  its  speech,  a  little  thing  compared 
with  seeking  truth. 

People  will  speculate  upon  the  possible  results  of  a  decided 
fact  if  it  had  been  in  some  respects  a  different  fact.  Thus,  it 
is  said  by  his  friends,  he  would  have  done  more  good,  and  by 
his  enemies,  more  harm,  if  his  temper  had  been  somewhat  more 
diplomatic,  and  his  revolutionary  matter  couched  in  cautious 
phrases.  They  would  tinker  the  fact,  like  Alphonso  of  Castile. 
Such  speculating  mends  all  the  world's  strong  men  out  of  sight. 
It  is  the  old  story  of  complaining  that  Luther  gets  into  a  great 
heat  with  taking  the  Pope's  Bull  by  the  horns,  and  that  Latimer 
shocks  people's  sensibilities  at  Charing  Cross.  You  can  have 
your  Luther  who  fights  a  good  fight,  or  some  other  individual 
good  for  something  else,  at  whom  the  Pope  and  his  monks  will 
snap  their  fingers,  if  they  deem  it  worth  the  while.  After  you 
have  boned  your  Reformer  you  might  as  well  boil  him,  for  he  is 
of  no  other  earthly  use. 

TO   MISS   C.    W.    HEALEY. 

December  3,  1841. 

What  you  say  about  touching  men's  prejudices  more  gently  is  true 
and  just.  I  can  only  say  that  while  I  feel  great  tenderness  towards 
the  preconceived  notions  of  individuals,  when  I  am  to  speak  of  a  mass 
of  doctrines  that  come  between  man  and  God,  I  think  the  blow  must 
be  strong  enough  to  cut  clean  through,  and  let  the  light  stream  through 
the  rent.  Besides,  the  sentiments  in  the  South  Boston  sermon  had  so 
long  been  familiar  to  me,  I  had  preached  them  so  often  with  no 
rebuke,  that  I  was  not  aware  of  saying  anything  that  was  severe.  I 
thought  the  sermon  would  be  reckoned  tame  and  spiritless,  for  it  so 
poorly  and  and  coldly  expressed  what  burned  in  my  heart  like  a 
volcano 

Tour  sympathy  is  exceedingly  precious  to  me.  I  never  feared  the 
reproaches  nor  coveted  the  praise  of  the  hostile  or  the  friendly,  but  the 
sympathy  of  the  true-hearted  is  blessed  to  me:  it  is  the  dew  to  the 
herb. 

TO   HIS   BROTHER-IN-LAW,    CHARLES    MILLER. 

12  July,  1841. 

You  seem  to  think  it  possible  that  my  motives  were  not  good  in 
writing  and  preaching  the  sermon  which  men  make  such  a  noise  about. 
Now,  1  never  in  my  life  wrote  a  sermon  with  a  deeper  conviction  of  its 
truth  or  of  the  good  it  would  do  in  the  world.  I  wrote  what  I  felt  to 
the  ends  of  my  fingers,  If  you  can  find  anything  bad,  pernicious,  or 
likely  to  injure  morality  and  religion,  1  am  very  sorry  ;  but  I  am  certain, 
it  contains  nothing  of  that  character.  The  noise  which  men  make,  the 


176  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

bad  names  they  call  me,  the  threats  they  utter,  move  me  as  little  as 
they  move  Monadnock  .  .  .  .  .  Do  you  think  I  could  have  any 
but  the  best  of  motives  for  this  work  ?  "What  could  I  gain  but  a  bad 
reputation  ?  Nothing  else.  No  :  I  felt  the  difficulties  of  the  common 
opinions.  I  wished  to  show  that  religion  was  independent  of  the 
foolish  doctrines  men  have  piled  upon  it.  I  wanted  to  break  the  yoke  of 
bondage  bound  on  men's  necks,  and  have  done  what  I  could  to  make  men 
better  here  and  hereafter.  The  opinions  in  the  discourse  are  nothing 
new  to  me  ;  not  the  random  thoughts  of  a  young  man,  but  the  sober, 
deliberate  convictions,  the  result  of  thought  and  study.  The  end  will 
be  good,  no  doubt  of  that ;  but  the  end  is  not  yet. 

The  following  alludes  to  a  letter  which  about  this  time  he 
addressed  to  the  clergymen  of  the  Boston  Association : — 

TO    MISS   E.    PEABODY. 

June  26,  184L 

Thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  your  letters ;  your  criticisms  are 
also  encouraging;  nobody  knows  better  than  I  how  numerous  my 
faults  are,  and  certainly  none  feels  them  so  strongly  as  I  do  daily.  I 
know  I  am  quick — sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel  it  may  be — particu 
larly  after  a  good  deal  of  intellectual  excitement ;  but  in  the  case  you 
instance  you  are  mistaken  entirely.  I  meant  in  sober  earnest  that 
those  people  were  wiser  as  well  as  older,  and  mean  it  now ;  not  that  all 
are  older  or  wiser,  but  the  leading  persons  I  know  to  be  both  older  and 
wiser,  so  I  beg' you  not  to  misunderstand  me  here.  It  did  not  occur 
to  me  that  anyone  could  misconceive  the  matter  so  entirely  as  to 
think  I  would  insult  a  respectable  body  of  people  by  a  sneer  after  that 
fashion.  Again,  the  letter  was  not  written  quickly,  nor  until  after  a 
good  deal  of  reflection ;  and  then  the  original  draught  was  shown  to  a 
cool,  cautious,  delicate-minded  man,  who  said  it  was  good,  but  too  weak. 
He  objected  to  nothing  therein.  Then  Lydia  read  it,  and  thought 
there  was  nothing  amiss  in  it.  Now,  my  usual  hastiness  had  nothing 
to  do  with  this  letter.  But  if  others'  eyes  have  the  mote  of  suspicion, 
as  yours  and  Sarah's  have  not,  why  they  will  see  an  innuendo  in  my 
wish  that  they  may  found  a  more  liberal  church,  and  even  in  my  sub 
scription  as  their  "  friend  in  the  Christian  faith."  But,  believe  me,  I 
should  not  interweave  inuendoes  or  sarcasm  in  a  letter  to  a  Church, 
though  I  think  sarcasm  a  legitimate  weapon  to  use  in  certain  cases  of 
argument  and  fun. 

This  letter  indicates  the  commencement  of  that  popular  sym 
pathy,  which  was  preparing  to  secure  for  him  a  more  magnificent 
hearing  than  any  man  ever  had  in  America : — 

TO  MESSRS.  WM.  LARNED,  S.  E.  BRACKETT,  CHARLES 
L.  THAYER,  AND  CHARLES  ELLIS. 

West  Roxbury,  26  June,  1841. 

MY  DEAR  FRIENDS, — Your  kind  and  very  flattering  note  came  safely 
to  hand,  and  I  have  given  it  the  best  consideration  in  my  power  to 
bestow.  I  am  thankful  for  the  interest  you  express  in  my  views  of 


THEODORE   PARKER.  177 

the  Christian  life.  I  know  of  no  finite  happiness  so  great  as  that 
which  attends  a  successful  attempt  to  set  forth  the  great  truths  of 
religion,  on  which  our  welfare  depends.  It  is  with  great  reluctance 
that  I  conclude  it  is  wisest  and  best  to  decline  the  invitation  you  have 
so  generously  made  me.  My  reasons  are  chiefly  a  distrust  of  my  own 
ability  to  effect  the  object  you  contemplate.  Besides,  I  can  still  utter 
my  word  in  the  pulpit,  and  occasionally  through  the  press,  and, 
perhaps,  can  do  what  is  given  me  to  do  better  in  this  than  any  other 
way.  The  subjects  you  suggest  offer  a  most  noble  and  beautiful  theme  ; 
and  would  to  Heaven  I  were  able  to  discuss  them  as  I  feel  they  now 
require  to  be  treated.  The  lectures  of  Dr.  "Walker,  however,  will 
more  than  supply  anything  I  could  attempt  with  any  hope  of  success. 

Believe  me,  gentlemen, 

Yery  affectionately, 
Tour  friend  and  brother  in  the  Christian  faith, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

This  invitation  of  a  few  friends  who  desired  to  maintain  his 
privilege  to  speak  and  to  define  his  own  position  had  important 
results,  notwithstanding  his  first  refusal.  He  was  persuaded  to 
deliver  a  course  of  lectures  in  Boston  during  the  winter  of 
1841-42.  The  old  Masonic  Temple  was  filled  to  hear  him. 
The  young  men  walked  in  from  Cambridge,  and  back  again 
over  the  long  bridge  in  the  darkness,  with  hearts  aflame.  All 
the  earnest  thinkers  came  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say,  and 
many  a  girl  who  is  now  a  noble  mother,  and  many  strong 
women  whose  names  have  since  stood  for  some  humanity  of 
letters  or  of  life. 

These  lectures  appeared  in  the  spring  of  1842,  somewhat 
more  elaborated,  in  the  volume  entitled,  "  A  Discourse  of  Matters 
Pertaining  to  Religion." 

When  this  volume  appeared,  people  were  puzzled  to  reconcile 
the  popular  warmth  arid  simplicity  of  the  text  with  the  remote 
and  varied  learning  piled  up  in  the  foot-notes.  They  observed 
the  anomaly  "as  a  curious  traveller  counts  Stonehenge."  It 
led  them  to  suspect  an  illusion.  Had  all  these  leading  books,  in 
all  languages,  been  faithfully  read  and  assimilated  ?  Then,  where 
is  the  trace  of  it  in  the  composition  ?  The  terminology  is 
neither  German,  French,  nor  Latin.  There  are  no  terms :  every 
sentence  is  a  lucid  drop.  When  he  states  that,  in  the  last 
analysis,  the  root  of  religion  is  a  sense  of  dependence,  you 
expect  a  popular  re-hash  of  Schleiermacher.  But  his  speech 
merely  borrows  the  phrase  as  a  temporary  convenience.  The 
word  Fetichism,  with  references  to  Constant,  whose  extravagant 
love  of  system  he  really  blames,  put  the  critics  on  the  scent  of 
13 


178  LIFE  AND   COKRESPONDENCE   OP 

a  French  theory  of  development.  So  also  did  the  sight  of 
Comte's  name,  to  whom  he  generally  refers  to  note  his  dis 
agreement  with  the  Positive  Method.  The  names  of  Strauss, 
Hennell,  Baur,  Bayle,  and  Hegel  were  presumptive  evidence 
against  the  genuineness  of  the  volume.  The  religious  newspapers 
scorned  an  infidel  dish  which  caught  the  drippings  of  all  foreign 
kitchens.  They  supposed  that  an  American  could  not  associate 
with  the  thought  of  other  nations  upon  terms  of  equality  and 
dignified  reserve.  He  would  infallibly  be  sent  home  in  a  suit 
of  foreign  livery,  of  fantastic  cut.  Though  they  could  not 
undertake  to  read  Mr.  Parker's  authorities  in  order  to  trace 
the  audacious  plagiarisms,  the  fact  was  assumed  by  every  sub 
servient  mind  which  felt  that  one  volume  of  Kant  would  be 
quite  enough  to  swamp  its  own  style  and  carry  down  its 
cherished  sentiments.  All  the  pocket-tapes  broke  in  measuring 
up  against  the  poor  boy  from  Lexington. 

There  were  errors  in  this  book,  no  doubt ;  inaccuracies  and 
marks  of  haste.  They  were  duly  noticed  in  the  reviews  of 
the  day.  , 

This  was  a  genuine  American,  who  had  loves  and  tastes 
which  were  cosmopolitan,  Massachusetts'  independent  hardihood 
without  the  Know-nothing  prejudice.  His  mind  was  like  the 
republican  idea  itself;  it  could  afford  to  be  hospitable,  but 
could  not  afford  to  be  exclusive.  Vigour,  simplicity,  a  sensi 
tive  heart,  a  kindling  enthusiasm,  greatness  to  welcome  great 
things  and  to  remain  still  greater,  breadth,  homeliness,  use,  and 
the  plastic  power  of  natural  elements, — these  are  the  New 
World's  character.  He  represented  it.  His  mind,  in  its 
prime,  was  the  first  thorough  democrat.  He  never  Platonized, 
Judaized,  nor  Germanized.  The  hordes  of  emigrants  found 
they  were  no  match  for  the  country.  Their  obtrusive  charac 
teristics  were  seized  by  the  climate  and  made  over ;  they 
gained  protection,  but  no  exclusive  immunities,  from  his  self- 
relying  mind. 

He  had  read  all  the  books  which  assumed  to  lead  thought  in 
their  respective  provinces.  He  knew  perfectly  well  what  had 
been  said  upon  all  great  points.  His  references  indicated 
honest  study,  for  careful  analyses  and  estimates  crowd  the 
pages  of  his  common-place  books.  What  a  proof  of  absence  of 
confusion  and  surfeit  is  his  simple  American  style,  in  which  his 
home-bred  piety  and  ethical  sincerity  flow  and  sparkle  !  Some 


THEODORE  PARKER.  1*79 

of  the  pages  of  this  volume  are  like  broad,  sweet  waters,  heated 
by  the  summer  sun.  The  foot-notes  show  below ;  sharp  Kant 
and  stony  Hegel,  and  uncertain  Schelling,  thin,  sinuous  grass, 
and  all  the  waifs  of  time.  In  the  still  shadowy  reaches  the 
lily  of  religion  floats. 

His  style  is  wonderful  for  its  absence  of  all  taint  from  scho 
lastic  and  metaphysical  terms.  It  has  other  faults,  precisely 
such  as  the  self-grown  vigour  might  be  expected  to  betray  ; 
but  it  steals,  begs,  and  borrows  nothing.  It  has  the  cant  of  no 
school,  transcendental  or  parti-evangelical ;  no  bristling  words 
of  Teuton  or  of  Gallic  origin.  He  finds  the  country  language 
capable  of  telling  his  most  spiritual  thought. 

That  was  the  danger,  men  considered ;  it  would  be  better 
if  his  sentences  were  subtly  involved,  and  his  ideas  only  half 
conscious  of  themselves.  And  it  was  alarming  that  a  man  of 
such  undoubted  piety  should  be  furnished  with  such  an  aggres 
sive  common-sense.  What  shall  be  done  for  the  Church,  when 
a  single  man  can  show  so  clearly  how  religious  he  can  be  with 
out  the  expense  of  miracles  and  mystical  formulas  ?  Men  of  all 
creeds  instinctively  saw  in  him  those  elements  of  a  revolution, 
the  primitive  human  right,  the  possession  of  weapons,  and  the 
defiance  of  authority. 

Aside  from  private  griefs,  he  enjoyed  the  struggle  which  bade 
him  put  forth  all  his  powers.  Now  he  stood  in  a  wider  horizon, 
and  felt  the  excitement  for  which,  without  knowing  it,  he  had 
languished.  Without  it  he  never  would  have  vindicated  his 
own  ability,  nor  acquired  that  unrivalled  expression  and 
trained  courage  which  made  him  so  formidable  in  the  great 
questions  of  the  day.  The  contest  came  just  in  time  to  give 
humane  love  for  man  and  for  man's  ideas,  the  advantage  over 
scholarship  and  seclusion. 

Duty,  freedom,  truth,  a  divine  life,  what  are  they?  Trifles,  no 
doubt,  to  Monk  Tetzel,  to  the  Leos  and  the  Bembos,  and  to  other 
sleek  persons,  new  and  old.  But  to  a  heart  that  swells  with  religion, 
like  the  Atlantic  pressed  by  the  wings  of  the  wind,  they  are  the  real 
things  of  G-od,  for  which  all  poor  temporalities  of  fame,  ease,  and  life 
are  to  be  cast  to  the  winds. 

He  that  feareth  the  Lord,  when  was  he  not  a  prey  ?  He  must  take 
his  life  in  his  hand,  and  become  as  a  stranger  to  men.  But  if  he  fall 
and  perish,  it  is  his  gain.  Is  it  not  the  world's  ?  It  is  the  burning 
wood  that  warms  men.* 

*  Discourse  of  Religion  :  Ain.  Ed.  1842,  pp.  110,  443. 


180  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

TO   DR.    FRANCIS. 

Feb.  14,  1842. 

It  is  not  often  I  have  an  hour  for  a  letter,  since  to  write  two  sermons 
a  week,  and  spend  five  days  of  the  week  in  other  matters,  and  get  no 
Sabbath  on  Sunday,  though  it  may  do  well  with  stronger  heads,  yet 
goes  hard  with  mine.  I  never  cared  much  for  the  sympathy  of  other* 
men,  and  never  less  than  now ;  but  once  in  a  great  while  I  feel  it  is 
not  altogether  pleasant  to  stand  alone,  to  be  viewed  with  suspicion  and 
hatred.  Blessed  are  the  men  who  can  take  things  as  they  find  them, 
and  believe  as  the  mob  believes,  and  sail  in  the  wake  of  public  opinion. 
I  remember  you  told  me  a  year  ago,  he  that  defies  public  opinion  is 
like  the  man  who  spits  in  the  wind ;  he  spits  in  his  own  face.  It  is  so. 
But  what  then  ?  Let  it  be  so.  Better  men  have  found  less  sympathy 
than  I.  I  do  not  care  a  rush  for  what  men  who  differ  from  me 
do  say ;  but  it  has  grieved  me  a  little,  I  confess  it,  to  see  men  who 
think  as  I  do  of  the  historical  and  mythical  matter  connected  with 
Christianity,  and  who  yet  take  the  stand  some  of  them  take.  It  is 
like  openiug  a  drawer,  when  you  expect  to  find  money,  and  discover 
that  the  gold  is  gone  and  only  the  copper  is  left.  This  has  been  my 
fate  very  often.  I  put  my  finger  on  a  minister,  and  "  he  ain't  there." 

TO  THE  SAME.  March  8,  1842. 

You  must  have  thought  me  a  great  fool  to  write  so  lugubrious  a 
letter  the  other  day.  I  ask  as  little  for  sympathy  as  any  man,  and  when 
I  mourn  it  is  not  on  my  own  account ;  but  I  have  seen  some  manifes 
tations  in  certain  persons  that,  I  confess,  made  me  feel  sad,  not  for  my 
sake,  but  their  sake.  I  will  tell  you  of  this  some  time,  but  not  write, 
for  scripta  manent. 

But  then  there  are  times  when  I  am  sick,  worn  out  and  shattered, 
and  I  have  nobody  to  fall  back  upon.  "  Wo  unto  him  that  is  alone 
when  he  falleth"  Paul  could  stand  alone.  I  often  think  of  those 
lines  of  Coleridge,  which  I  trust  are  not  so  frequently  on  your  tongue, 
nor  so  deeply  graven  in  your  memory,  as  in  mine : — 

"  There  was  a  time  when,  though  my  path  was  rough, 
This  joy  within  me  dallied  with  distress, 
And  all  misfortunes  were  but  as  the  stuff 
"Whence  fancy  wove  me  dreams  of  happiness : 
Eor  hope  grew  round  me,  like  the  twining  vine, 
And  fruits  and  foliage  not  my  own  seem'd  mine. 
But  now  afflictions  bow  me  down  to  earth : 
Nor  heed  I  that  they  rob  me  of  my  mirth. 
But  oh,  each  visitation 
Suspends,  what  nature  gave  me  at  my  birth, 
My  shaping  spirit  of  imagination. 
Tor  not  to  think  of  what  I  needs  must  feel, 
And  to  be  still  and  patient,  all  I  can, 
And,  haply  by  abstruse  research  to  steal 
From  my  own  nature  all  the  natural  man — 
This  was  (is)  my  sole  resource,  my  only  plan : 
Till  that  which  suits  a  part  infects  the  whole, 
And  now  is  almost  grown  the  habit  of  my  soul." 


THEODORE   PARKER.  181 

But  I  will  trouble  you  with  no  more  threnodies,  and  I  know  you 
will  forgive  me  this  once. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

May  5,  1842. 

I  should  have  answered  your  last  long  ago,  but  the  book  I  have  in 
the  press  ("  Discourse,"  &c.)  has  demanded  from  fifty  to  eighty  hours 
a  week  of  me,  for  the  last  six  weeks,  and  I  have  had  sermons  to  write, 
and  neighbours  to  visit,  and  a  thousand  little  "  notions  "  to  attend  to, 
so  that  really  I  could  not  gratify  my  wish  to  see  you  or  write  to  you. 
But  this  morning  I  sent  the  last  sheet  to  the  printer,  and  am  now  at 
leisure  for  a  little  while ;  so  you  may  not  only  hear  from  me,  but 
peradventure  I  shall  waylay  the  tome-devourer,  like  Cacus,  in  his  den, 
and  that  before  long. 

The  other  day  I  found  a  little  bit  of  "  literary  history  matter,"  which 
perhaps  you  have  not  seen ;  and  as  it  concerns  a  favourite  book  of 
yours,  I  will  copy  it  for  you.  Luther's  "  Table-talk  "  "  did  so  promote 
the  Protestant  religion  in  Germany  that  each  church  had  one  of  them 
(a  copy  of  the  '  Table-talk ')  chained  in  it,  on  which  the  Pope  and  the 
Emperor  caused  them  all  to  be  burned.  Only  one  of  them  was  after 
wards  found  wrapt  up  in  an  old  wall,  by  a  German  gentleman  that 
pulled  down  his  old  house,  who,  not  daring  to  keep  it,  for  fear  of  the 
law  against  it,  sent  it  to  his  friend,  Captain  Henry  Bell,  in  London, 
desiring  him  to  turn  it  out  of  German  into  the  English  tongue.  The 
said  captain,  through  business  or  otherwise,  deferring  to  translate  it, 
one  night,  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock,  there  appeared  to  him,  then 
awake,  an  ancient  man  standing  at  his  bed-side  all  in  white,  with  a 
broad  white  beard  down  to  his  girdle,  taking  him  by  the  right  ear,  sav 
ing,  '  Sirrah,  wilt  thou  not  take  time  to  translate  this  book  which  is 
sent  thee  out  of  Germany  ?  I  will  shortly  provide  thee  both  time  and 
place  to  do  it  in,'  then  vanished.  His  fright  and  sweating  astonished  his 
wife  ;  yet,  not  heeding  visions,  the  book  again  slipped  out  of  his  mind, 
till  warrants  from  Charles  I.'s  council-board  laid  him  up  in  the  gate-house 
in  Westminster  for  ten  years,  without  showing  him  any  cause,  five  of 
which  were  spent  in  composing  the  said  translation,  which  was  pub 
lished  by  the  Assembly  of  Divines." 

This  is  from  the  "  Surry  Demoniack ;  or  An  Account  of  Satan's 
Strange  and  Dreadful  Actings  in  and  about  the  Body  of  Richard 
Dugdale,  of  Surry,  near  Whalley,  in  Lancashire,"  &c.,  &c. ;  London, 
1697.  Of  course,  you  who  own  the  book  of  Captain  Bell  must  believe 
the  story,  for  the  translation  must  have  divine  authority,  such  as  no 
translation  pretends  to  except  the  LXX.  Since  you  are  a  logician 
and  casuist  1  will  propound  a  practical  question  growing  out  of  this 
case  ;  An  liber  fallibilis  sit  ne  infallibilis  si  translator  infallibiliter  atque 
miraculose,  <&c.?  The  "  Tisch-reden"  of  honest  Martin  may  be  a  human 
book,  fallible,  to  be  judged  of  like  other  books,  and  censured  when  ib 
talks  nonsense  or  Contradicts  itself.  But  the  "  Table-talk  "  as  it 
comes  from  the  hands  of  the  aforesaid  captain,  is  a  divine  and  infallible 
production,  and  as  such  is  not  to  be  tried  bv  "  carnal  reason."  Then 
a  question  rises,  whether  the  miraculous  character  is  vested  in  the 
letters  and  points  (the  single  parts)  or  in  the  book  (the  universal), 


182  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

and  whether  all  subsequent  editions  would  therefore  be  infallible,  or 
only  the  Codex  Bell  which  came  from  the  hand  of  the  captain. 

My  book  will  appear  about  May  20.  After  that  I  suppose  you  will 
never  speak  to  me  except  to  say,  Apage  Sathanas  !  So  I  shall  come 
to  see  you  before. 

TO   MRS.    DALL. 

Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend.  I  do  not  love  to  be  admired. 
I  like  much  better  one  who  sees  my  faults  also,  than  one  who  only 
sees  what  little  excellence  I  may  chance  to  have.  Yesterday  I  had  a 
note  from  a  stranger,  calling  me  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing,  and  other 
gentle  titles.  To-day  comes  your  note  with  its  womanly  tenderness, 
and  its  manly  rebuke. 

But  while  I  thank  you  for  your  frankness,  I  by  no  means  admit 
the  j  ustice  of  what  you  say.  I  am  by  no  means  conscious  of  giving 
utterance  to  "an  unchristlike  sneer  or  an  unkind  accusation  "  in  any 
of  my  writings,  preachings,  or  prayings.  I  do  not  admit  the  justice 
of  your  remarks  about  sneering  tones.  I  never  spoke  of  such  as  have 
faith  in  the  Gospel  record  in  terms  of  sarcasm  and  abuse,  say 

Mr. what  he  will.  If  you  will  read  over  the  passage  where  I 

quote  the  lines  of  Pope,*  I  think  you  will  see  little  to  censure.  If 
I  sneered  at  such  as  still  believe  in  the  ordinances,  do  you  think  I 
should  still  administer  these  ordinances  ?  I  ?  And  invite  others  to 
participate  in  what  I  publicly  administered — that  I  publicly  mocked  at ! 
When  I  quoted  these  lines,  I  rejoiced  that  at  God's  table  there  was 
milk  for  the  maidens,  meat  for  the  men.  In  short,  that  there  was 
something  for  all — that  man  can  take  such  things,  water,  bread  and 
wine,  and  by  means  of  association  therewith  connected,  can  find  them 
helps  in  their  spiritual  progress.  I  think  that  in  comparison  with  the 
great  work  of  forming  a  Christian  character  and  living  a  Christian  life, 
all  will  confess  that  the  "  ordinances  "  are  but  straws,  rattles  and 
childish  playthings.  I  never  mocked  at  anything.  I  am  not  aware  of 
uttering  contumely  and  reproach.  I  pray  thee,  where  or  when  ?  I 
have  spoken  strongly,  and  I  have  strongly  felt.  I  feel  willing  to  stand 
up  before  men  or  God,  and  declare  that  I  am  not  conscious  of  having 
written  one  line  with  any  unchristian  feeling.  I  knew  I  should  be 
misunderstood,  misrepresented  and  abused.  Once  I  said,  "  We  whine 
and  whimper  in  our  brother's  name,"  &c. ;  for  that  I  have  been  called 
mocker,  yet  I  wrote  that  sentence  in  tears  of  anguish,  in  great  burn 
ings  of  heart.  I  say  to  you,  what  I  never  said  before — not  even  to  my 
wife — that  after  writing  some  of  those  sentences  for  which  I  am  most 
commonly  abused,  I  have  been  obliged  to  pause,  then  throw  myself  on 
a  couch  and  get  relief  in  tears.  I  don't  know  why  I  tell  you  this,  for 
I  do  not  like  to  talk  of  myself.  So  I  beg  you  never  to  repeat  or  show 
it  to  any  one.  But  it  is  in  such  mood  that  I  have  written  such  pas- 

*  Discourse  of  Religion,  Ed.  1842,  p.  261.  The  lines  were  applied  to  the  ordinance 
of  the  Lord's  Supper :  — 

"  Behold  the  child,  by  Nature's  kindly  law, 
Pleased  with  a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  straw  ; 
Some  livelier  plaything  gives  his  youth  delight— 
A  little  louder,  but  as  empty  quite." 


THEODORE   PARKER.  183 

sages  as  some  men  read  in  coldness  or  in  passion,  and  then  call  me  an 
infidel,  a  heartless  man  for  writing ! 

He  that  reads  my  books  twenty  years  hence — if  I  am  not  quite  for 
gotten  before  that  time — will  not  find  in  them  the  abuse,  the  sarcasm, 
the  contumely,  and  all  that,  which  so  grieves  you.  At  Salem  they  said 
I  painted  the  Salem  ministers,  at  Marblehead  the  clergy  of  that  place, 
and  at  Boston  it  was  the  "  Brethren  "  that  I  "  abused,"  and  on 
whom  I  "  poured  scorn  and  contempt."  I  think  some  of  the  brethren 
ought  to  fall  down  on  their  knees  and  thank  me  for  my  forbearance, 
that  I  have  not  told  what  I  most  assuredly  have  known  and  still 
remember. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

May  6, 1842.— To-day  I  received  the  last  proof-sheet  of  my  "  Dis 
course  on  Matters,"  &c.  It  fills  me  with  sadness  to  end  what  has  been 
so  dear  to  me.  Well :  the  result  lies  with  God.  May  it  do  a  good  work ! 
I  fear  not,  but  hope.  There  may  be  a  noise  about  it ;  it  will  not  sur 
prise  me.  But  I  think  it  will  do  a  good  work  for  the  world.  God 
bless  the  good  in  it,  and  destroy  the  bad !  This  is  my  prayer. 

May  11. — The  life  of  Dr.  Eollen  is  written  by  his  wife.  It  interests 
me  exceedingly.  The  character  of  the  man  was  deep,  sensitive,  and 
beautiful.  He  had  a  religious  genius :  most  of  the  New  Englanders 
have  moral  talent,  but  very  few  have,  or  understand,  what  I  call  religious 
genius.  Henry  Ware  has  much  of  it,  Dr.  Channing  less. 

Oct.  5. — I  have  to-day  heard  of  the  death  of  Dr.  Channing.  He 
has  fallen  in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness.  His  faculties  grew  brighter 
as  age  came  on  him.  No  man  in  America  has  left  a  sphere  of  such 
wide  usefulness ;  no  man  since  Washington  has  done  so  much  to 
elevate  his  country.  His  life  has  been  spent  in  the  greatest  and  best 
of  works.  A  great  man — and  a  good  man — has  gone  home  from  the 
earth.  Why,  oh !  my  God,  are  so  many  left,  when  such  are  taken  ? 
Why  could  not  I  have  died  in  his  stead  ? 

Here  is  a  downright  famous  letter,  which  Luther,  journeying 
to  Worms,  would  not  have  been  ashamed  of: — 

TO   DR.    FRANCIS. 

June  24,  1842. 

I  trust  you  have  long  before  this  made  up  your  mind  to  go  to  Cam 
bridge.*  I  can't  help  thinking  that  the  welfare  of  the  denomination 
depends  upon  it.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  the  bloom  and  fruitage  of  your 
life,  your  going  thither  and  pouring  out  the  learning  you  have  hived 
up  in  diligent  summers,  and  drawing  from  the  wells  of  thought  and 
emotion  which  you  have  so  long  frequented.  I  rejoice  at  it  most  con 
tinually.  The  young  men  at  the  school,  I  learn,  are  much  gratified 
with  the  arrangement.  I  know  the  intellectual  and  the  liberal  party 
of  the  clergy— I  am  sorry  it  is  a  small  number — will  also  rejoice  at  it. 

*  Dr.  Francis  had  just  received  an  invitation  to  occupy  the  Parkman  Professorship  at 
the  Divinity  School 


184  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

But  there  is  one  thing  of  some  consequence  to  me,  though  of  little 
to  you,  of  which  I  want  to  say  a  word  or  two  (I  am  not  complaining 
of  any  one,  nor  writing  a  Jeremiad  to  grieve  you).  The  experience  of 
the  last  twelve  months  shows  me  what  I  am  to  expect  for  the  next 
twelve  years.  I  have  no  fellowship  from  the  other  clergy.  No  one 
that  helped  in  my  ordination  will  now  exchange  ministerial  courtesies 
with  me ;  only  one  or  two  of  the  Boston  Association,  and  perhaps  one 
or  two  out  of  it,  will  have  any  ministerial  intercourse  with  me.  "  They 
that  are  younger  than  I  have  me  in  derision;"  they  turn  the  cold 
shoulder.  Well :  Quorsum  hcec  spectant  ?  If  I  stay  at  Spring  Street,  I 
must  write  104  sermons  a  year  for  about  104  people.  This  will  con 
sume  most  of  my  energies,  and  I  shall  be  in  substance  put  down — a 
bull  whose  roaring  can't  be  stopped,  but  who  is  tied  up  in  the  corner 
of  the  barn-cellar,  so  that  nobody  hears  him  ;  and  it  is  the  same  as  if  he 
did  not  roar,  or  as  if  he  were  muzzled.  Now  this  I  will  not  do.  I  should 
not  answer  the  purposes  of  life ;  but  only  execute  the  plans  of  my 
enemies — of  the  enemies  of  freedom  of  mankind. 

I  must  confess  that  I  am  disappointed  in  the  ministers — the  Uni 
tarian  ministers.  I  once  thought  them  noble  ;  that  they  would  be  true 
to  an  ideal  principle  of  right. 

******** 

Now  this  I  shall  do  when  obliged  to  desert  the  pulpit ;  because  a 
free  voice  and  a  free  heart  cannot  be  in  "  that  bad  eminence."  I  mean 
to  live  at  Spring  Street,  perhaps  with  Eipley.  I  will  study  seven  or 
eight  months  of  the  year,  and  four  or  five  months  I  will  go  about,  and 
preach  and  lecture  in  city  and  glen,  by  the  road-side  and  field-side,  and 
wherever  men  and  women  can  be  found.  I  will  go  eastward  and  west 
ward,  and  southward  and  northward,  and  make  the  land  ring ;  and  if 
this  New  England  theology,  that  cramps  the  intellect  and  palsies  the 
soul  of  us,  does  not  come  to  the  ground,  then  it  shall  be  because  it  has 
more  truth  in  it  than  I  have  ever  found.  I  am  perfectly  free  of  two 
things — fear  and  ambition.  What  I  have  seen  to  be  false  I  will  pro 
claim  a  lie  on  the  housetop  ;  and,  just  as  God  reveals  truth,  I  will 
declare  His  word,  come  what  may  come. 

It  grieves  me  to  the  very  soul  of  my  heart's  life  to  think  of  leaving 
the  ministry  (which  I  love  as  few  ministers  love  it)  and  this  little  parish. 
But,  if  duty  commands,  who  am  I  to  resist  ?  If  you  have  any  word  of 
advice  to  give  me  I  shall  be  glad  ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  rejoice  in  the 
new  field  of  usefulness  opening  its  harvest  to  you.  I  hope  you  will 
teach  the  young  men  to  be  valiant  and  fear  not. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

July  25,  1842. 

Tou  give  me  ground  to  hope  you  will  come  over  and  see  me  soon ; 
the  sooner  the  better,  you  know.  I  see  very  few  persons,  especially 
scholarly  folk;  and,  though  I  have  little  claim  to  the  society  of  such, 
yet  enjoy  their  visit,  perhaps,  all  the  more.  But,  after  all,  books, 
nature,  and  God  afford  the  only  society  you  can  always  have,  and  on 
reasonable  terms. 

I  rejoice  in  the  motto  you  mention,  Sursum  corda.  Many  men  live 
on  the  motto,  Sursum  et  deorsum,  and  so  go.  see-sawing  through  life. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  185 

Here  and  there  one  takes  sadly  the  motto,  Omne  ferendum,  and  lives 
on. 

You  will  go  to  Cambridge  soon ;  and  I  rejoice  in  your  prospect  of 
long  usefulness,  and  the  society  of  men  that  will  appreciate  your  worth 
and  sympathize  with  your  aspirations.  1  look  forward  to  a  brighter 
period  than  you  have  ever  rejoiced  in  before,  when  the  wine  of  your 
life,  hoarded  and  ripened  in  fruitful  years,  shall  show  itself  worthy  of 
its  mark,  and  quicken  the  blood  of  youth,  making  their  pulsations  more 
generous  than  before.  Well :  God  speed  you,  and  keep  and  bless  you ! 
Farewell ! 

TO   THE   SAME. 

St.  John's,  August  9,  Down  East,  1842, 

I  am  here  for  the  sake  of  health,  strange  as  it  may  seem ;  I  do  all 
physical  work,  but  none  metaphysical.  This  is  a  queer  place,  an  odd, 
amorphous,  undescribable  city,  in  which  there  is  absolutely  nothing 
attractive  to  any  but  a  native  or  a  speculator 

Don't  you  know  that  the  charge  brought  against  you  by  certain  of 
the  "  brethren  "  is,  not  that  you  have  done,  written,  or  said  or  thought 
anything  specially  naughty,  but  that  you  are  notoriously  the  companion 
of  suspected  and  abandoned  persons?  It  is  so.  Now  I  will  speak 
plainly.  I  do  not  wish  to  stand  in  your  way ;  I  will  not,  knowingly, 
bring  on  you  the  censure  (or  suspicion)  of  your  brethren.  Therefore, 
after  you  go  to  Cambridge,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  visit  you  as  here 
tofore.  Certainly  Mr.  ,  and  Br.  ,  will  say,  "It  won't  do, 

Francis  holds  intercourse  with  Parker !  we  be  all  dead  men."  Now  I 
hope  you  will  consider  these  things.  I  might,  like  JSTicodemus,  come 
by  night,  privately,  but  it  is  not  my  way.  I  hope  neither  you  nor 
Mrs.  F.  will  suspect  anything  unkind  in  this,  for  I  only  write  sincerely. 
To  come  to  other  things  .  .  . 

May  young  divinity  students  heed  the  sound  advice  in  the 
letter  which  follows : — 

TO   THE   SAME. 

September  25,  1842. 

Mr.  Withington  of  the  Divinity  School  has  passed  an  hour  or  two 
with  me,  and  told  me  what  I  knew  must  take  place,  namely,  that  the 
school  already  wears  a  new  aspect,  as  it  has  a  new  soul ;  that  you 
stimulate  the  dull,  and  correct  the  erratic,  and  set  right  such  as  have 
prejudices  inclining  to  narrowness,  if  not  bigotry.  I  knew  that  this 
was  the  place  for  you  ;  but  besides  awakening  the  soul  of  piety  in  the 
youth  who  are  to  teach  it,  there  is  one  work  which  (you  will  pardon 
me  for  suggesting  it)  the  wiser  part  of  the  public  look  to  you  to 
perform. 

There  was  a  time  when  sound  scholarship  was  deemed  essential  to  a 
Unitarian  minister,  I  think  the  denomination  has  more  first-rate 
scholars  from  the  age  of  Frothingham  down  to  that  of  Upham  than 
any  other  denomination,  in  proportion  to  our  numbers.  But  among 


186  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

the  younger  men  there  is  a  most  woful  neglect  of  sound  study 
of  all  kinds.  A  man's  library  is,  in  some  measure,  the  index  of  his 
mind ;  and  the  library  of  a  young  minister  presents  a  deplorable 
picture  of  our  theology  ;  a  few  reviews,  popular  histories,  Hiilfsmittel 
for  New  Testament  exegesis  in  English,  perhaps  an  unused  copy  of 
Kuinoel,  works  of  fiction,  show  books,  and  the  scum  of  the  press  make 
up  the  whole,  saving  a  few  volumes  of  sermons.  This  neglect  of 
sound  study  has  been  excused  by  the  example  of  some  pious  men,  and 
justified  by  the  demands  of  the  time,  that  a  man  should  lecture  on 
intemperance,  slavery,  &c.,  visit  all  the  old  women  in  his  parish  once 
a  week,  and  retail  gossip  from  house  to  house. 

Now  it  seems  to  me  that  the  denomination  has  a  right  to  expect  the 
first  scholar  that  has  been  Professor  of  Theology  since  Norton  to 
reform  this  evil,  not  only  by  his  example  but  by  his  precept,  and  by 
the  discipline  he  gives  the  young  men  under  his  charge.  The  ortho 
dox  and  even  the  Baptists  are  doing  much  more  than  we  to  encourage 
good  scholarship.  One  of  two  things  I  fancy  must  be  done,  either, 
1,  all  study  of  theology  must  be  abandoned ;  or,  2,  it  must  be  studied 
in  a  method  and  with  a  thoroughness  and  to  an  extent  which  bears 
some  resemblance  to  the  state  of  other  sciences.  Theology  is  con 
temptible  at  present  in  comparison  with  astronomy,  geology,  or  even 
the  pretended  science  of  phrenology.  Even  this  last  pretends  to  verify 
its  facts  and  legitimate  its  principles.  Does  theology  do  either  ?  Is 
not  a  minister  to  do  both  of  two  things,  viz.,  1,  to  teach  truth  about 
man  and  God,  and  the  relation  between  them  ;  and,  2,  to  promote 
goodness  ?  Is  the  present  method  adequate  to  the  first  object  ?  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  whole  matter  of  theology  requires  to  be  taken 
back  to  the  shop  and  cast  over  anew.  Is  not  theology  in  about  the 
same  state  with  us  that  natural  philosophy  was  in  before  Bacon  ? 
Shall  we  leave  the  reformation  of  it  to  the  orthodox,  or  do  our  part  ? 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  what  may  seem  very  impertinent,  and 
the  intrusion  of  a  boy's  advice. 


In  the  winter  of  1842-43  he  delivered  a  course  of  "  Six  Plain 
Sermons  for  the  Times/'  which  he  prepared  at  the  invitation  of 
friends  who  desired  to  hear  from  him  again.  They  were  repeated 
in  seven  different  places  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston. 

Everywhere  I  have  found  a  much  better  reception  than  I  had  reason 
to  anticipate.  It  has  been  to  me  a  season  of  no  little  trial.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  good  will  come  out  of  the  great  evils  of  the  present  day. 

April  13,  1843. — Went  to  Cambridge.  Saw  ~W ,  who  expresses 

a  great  horror  at  the  unfairness  with  which  some  men  have  treated  me, 
"  who  believe  just  the  same  thing."  I  don't  understand  good . 

"Went  afterwards  to  Medford.  Saw  Schoolmaster  Thos.  Starr  King — 
capital  fellow,  only  19.  Taught  school  three  years — supports  his  mother. 
He  went  into  Walker's  three  courses  of  lectures,  and  took  good  notes. 
Reads  French,  Spanish,  Latin,  Italian,  a  little  Greek,  and  begins  Ger 
man.  (He  is  a  good  listener.) 


THEODORE   PARKER.  187 

Now,  he  was  much  sought  after,   but  he  was  not  always 
found. 

FROM    HORACE    SEAVER. 

Boston,  January  11,  1843. 

E-EV.  AifD  DEAR  SIE, — As  chairman  of  the  committee  of  arrange 
ments  for  the  celebration  of  Thomas  Paine's  birthday  in  this  city,  on 
the  30th  instant,  I  am  instructed  to  perform  the  highly  pleasing  duty  of 
soliciting  the  honour  of  your  company  at  the  dinner  ;  and  to  say  to  you, 
in  addition,  that  it  would  give  the  committee  great  pleasure,  as  well  as 
many  others  of  your  personal  friends,  if  your  health  and  time  will  allow 
you  to  comply  with  this  invitation. 

I  am,  very  respectfully, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

HOEACE  SEAYEE. 

REPLY. 

West  Roxbury,  14th  January,  1843. 

DEAE  SIE, — Tour  favour  of  the  llth  instant  came  in  my  absence 
from  home,  and  I  now  hasten  to  reply  to  the  invitation  you  offer  me. 
With  the  views  I  entertain  of  Mr.  Paine's  character  in  his  later  years, 
I  could  not,  consistently  with  my  own  sense  of  duty,  join  with  you  in 
celebrating  his  birth -day.  I  feel  grateful,  truly  so,  for  the  service  ren 
dered  by  his  political  writings,  and  his  practical  efforts  in  the  cause  of 
freedom  ;  though  with  what  I  understand  to  be  the  spirit  of  his  writings 
on  theology  and  religion,  I  have  not  the  smallest  sympathy. 
I  am,  respectfully, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

Horace  Seaver,  Esq. 

April  17. — Read  "  Kousseau's  Confessions  "  and  the  article  upon  him 
in  Biographic  Universelle.  Kousseau — a  liar !  a  thief !  a  great  knave  ! — 
I  abhor  him.  He  seems  sadly  ill-born — one  of  the  creatures  that  are 
the  sport  of  destiny.  I  shall  never  read  his  works  with  much  interest 
after  the  developments  of  the  "  Confessions." 

18. — Bead  Grliddon's  "  Ancient  Egypt."  It  is  a  confused  mass  of 
valuable  matter  gathered  from  the  recent  works  on  Egypt.  Mr.  Gr. 
wishes  "  to  run  with  the  hare  and  hold  with  the  hounds ;"  so  he 
professes,  apparently,  his  respect  for  the  Scriptures,  and  really  despises 
them,  it  seems  to  me.  His  notions  about  the  LXX.  and  Mas.  Heb. 
text,  which  he  calls  the  "  Masorite  Hebrew  Version,"  are  highly- 
erroneous. 

JOHN  WOOLHAN'S  JOTJENAL. — This  is  one  of  the  most  encouraging 
books  I  aver  read.  What  depth  of  insight  into  divine  things,  and  not 
less  into  human  things  !  How  lowly  and  meek  !  How  lofty,  too,  his 
aspirations  !  What  gentle  courage — what  faith  !  He  reminds  me  of 
Isaac  Hopper. 


188  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE  OF 

TO    REV.    INCREASE   S.    SMITH. 

October  10,  1842. 

You  asked  some  time  ago  about  De  Wette,  and  the  "  Introduction  to 
the  Old  Testament."  It  is  in  the  press,  and  about  300  pp.  of  the  first 
volume  are  stereotyped.  But  it  goes  on  slowly.  All  summer  I  have 
been  ill,  and  able  to  do  almost  nothing.  Had  I  been  well,  the  book 
would  have  been  out  of  the  press  before  now.  But  I  find  I  can  improve 
it.  What  has  often  been  hammered,  I  take  back  to  the  anvil  again,  to 
file  over  the  filed,  and  linger  on  the  manuscript  with  a  superstitious 
regard  for  the  accuracy  of  quotations,  references,  &c.  About  the  first  of 
April,  1843, 1  think  it  may  see  the  light. 

I  am  glad  you  mentioned  the  mistake  in  my  poor  book  ("  Discourse," 
&c.)  There  are  several  errors— some  of  them  in  the  notes — in  the  book, 
which  are  lapses  of  memory,  or  slips  of  the  pen,  or  errors  of  the  press. 
After  the  last  sheets  of  manuscript  went  to  the  press,  the  excitement 
that  sustained  me  in  the  work  failed.  I  was  not  well  enough  to  look 
over  the  book  and  make  a  complete  list  of  errata,  for  a  few  weeks.  But 
a  list  of  six  or  eight  errors  was  printed  in  about  a  fortnight ;  and  some 
weeks  later,  as  friends  pointed  out  a  few  mistakes,  or  as  my  own  eye 
detected  them,  I  printed  a  more  complete  list  of  them.  I  gave  Mr. 
Stevens  two  copies  of  the  printed  errata,  and  requested  him  to  give 
one  to  you ;  but  I  supposed  he  forgot  it,  so  I  send  you  one. 

Brownson's  review,  I  hear,  is  not  vindictive.  I  have  not  read  it 
yet,  nor  looked  at  it,  though  it  has  been  in  my  hands  for  more  than 
a  week.  I  have  lent  it  to  my  friends,  and  when  I  have  a  convenient 
season  I  shall  read  it. 

ECCLESIASTICAL  RELATIONS. 

January  23rd,  1843. — I  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Association  bv 
particular  request.  It  seems  that,  so  early  as  last  September,  at  a 
meeting  at  Putnam's,  the  Association  thought  proper  to  discuss  the  affairs 
of  myself  and  my  book  ("  Discourse,"  &c.)  The  discussion  was  continued 
from  time  to  time.  But  once,  in  December,  I  think,  or  the  latter  part  of 
November,  some  felt  a  delicacy  in  discussing  such  a  matter  in  my 
absence.  Therefore  they  considered  it  meet  to  request  me  to  come  and 
talk  the  matter  over  with  them  in  a  friendly  way.  So  I  came.  The 
Association  met  at  E.  0.  "Waterston's  in  Temple  Street,  and  what 
follows  is  a  faithful  history  of  the  events  that  took  place. 

After  tea,  which  was  got  through  a  little  after  six,  •  * 
called  the  meeting  to  order,  and  with  a  considerable  degree  of  em 
barrassment,  stated  the  business  of  the  meeting.  followed 

him,  and  also  stated  the  occasion,  the  circumstances  that  gave  rise 
to  the  meeting,  viz.,  that  the  Association  felt  a  delicacy  in  discussing 
me  and  mine  in  my  absence.  He  said  he,  however,  and  the  Association 
had  felt  a  difficulty  in  asking  me  to  come ;  for,  first,  it  was  my  place 
without  invitation,  and  second,  the  invitation  might  look  like  a 
summons.  Here  the  record  of  the  last  meeting  was  produced  by 
Mr.  Bobbins,  and  the  resolution  inviting  me  was  read ;  it  was  stated 

*  The  blanks  are  the  same  throughout  this  relation,  but  they  cover  the  names  of  half- 
a-dozen  speakers,  who,  however,  never  cared  to  conceal  any  opinions  that  referred  to 
Mr.  Parker. 


• 

THEODORE  PARKEB.  189 

that  the  resolution  was  worded  with  great  care,  and  debated  on  some 
time  before  adoption. 

These  preliminaries  settled,  opened  the  business  by  going 

in  medias  res,  stating,  however,  beforehand  that,  first,  I  was  not  to 
catechise  them,  nor  second,  were  they  to  catechise  me.  Then  he  said 
that  he  could  have  no  ministerial  intercourse  with  me — though  still  he 
hoped  to  have  a  friendly  and  social  intercourse.  The  reason  was,  the 
character  of  the  book  I  had  written.  That  he  charged  me  with  two 
offences.  1.  It  was  vehemently  deistical,  using  the  word  in  the  worst 
sense  ;  and  2.  It  was  not  only  not  Christian,  but  subversive  of  Christi 
anity,  as  a  particular  religion,  for  it  aimed  to  dissolve  Christianity  in 
the  great  ocean  of  absolute  truth. 

Tnen took  up  the  word,  and  spoke  of  ministerial  ex 
changes  again,  and  said  also  that  the  book  was  not  the  only  oifence, 
but  the  article  on  the  Hollis  Street  Council,*  was  also  bad,  for  it 
reflected  on  the  members  of  the  Association.  He  confirmed  what 
had  said  relative  to  the  book,  but  added  that  the  doc 
trines  of  the  book  were  not  a  matter  of  discussion,  and  that  it  had 
been  so  agreed  at  a  former  meeting. 

Then  I  stated  that  it  seemed  there  were  two  sets  of  offences  I  was 
charged  withal,  to  wit,  1.  in  the  book,  and  2,  in  the  article  on  the 
Hollis  Street  Council.  To  each  I  would  say  a  word,  but  first  of  all, 
I.  On  the  matter  of  ministerial  fellowship.  I  begged  them  to  consider 
that  I  had  never  complained  on  that  account;  never  felt  an  ill-natured 
emotion — nor  uttered  an  ill-natured  word  respecting  them,  or  any  of 
them,  on  that  ground.  I  would,  however,  tell  the  result  of  their  refus 
ing  fellowship,  viz.,  (1.)  Soon  after  the  South  Boston  sermon,  men 
refused  to  exchange  with  me.  I  had  some  very  curious  letters  in  my 
hands  relative  to  that  affair,  which  might  be  printed  after  my  death  or 
before  it.  Some  from  clergymen  refusing  to  exchange  with  me— they 
agreed  to  do  so  before.  The  result  was  this—some  members  of 
churches  in  the  city  asked  me  to  come  and  deliver  five  lectures  on  five 
subjects.  I  pleaded  youth, — inability, — and  refused.  They  would  not 
be  satisfied  with  the  plea.  They  said,  "you  are  excluded  from  the 
pulpits  of  the  Unitarians  for  no  sufficient  reason.  "We  want  to  hear 
what  you  have  got  to  say  :  we  can't  hear  you  in  the  old  wdy,  let  us  try  a 
new  one."  I  consulted  two  ministers,  they  said  "  Go,"  and  T  went ; 
delivered  the  lectures  in  Boston,  and  five  other  places,  before  some 
thousands  of  people,  and  printed  them  in  a  book. 

2.  In  1842,  some  young  men  repeated  the  same  arguments,  and 
called  me  to  come  and  preach,  continually,  old  sermons  every  Sunday 
evening.     I  thought  it  better  to  preach  six  sermons,  such  as  were 
needed  for  the  times.     I  did  so  in  Boston ;    they  saw  the  result. 
Others  in  other  places  made  the  same  request.     I  went  there  also. 
That  was  the  effect  on  the  public  of  their  treatment  of  me — on  myself 
it  had  no  effect. 

3.  I  spoke  of  the  article  on  the  Hollis  Street  Council,  and  said  that 
it  was  no  wonder  different  men  took  different  views  of  that  affair.     I 
could  not  expect  them  to  take  the  same  views  as  myself. 

*  Published  in  the  Dial,  exposing  the  clerical  servility  to  the  prominent  interest  in 
Mr.  Pierpont's  parish. 


190  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

II.  I  turned  to  the  book  and  said :  It  was  curious  that  a  theological 
book  was  to  be  discussed,  and  we  were  not  allowed  to  speak  on  the 
subjects  of  the  book,  and  discuss  the  doctrines  on  which  we  differed, 
or  were  alleged  to  differ.  (I  ought  to  have  said  before,  that  I  showed 
at  the  beginning  that  I  took  the  spirit  of  the  resolution,  but  did  not 
see  any  good  that  could  result  from  that  meeting.)  However,  I  would 
avoid  touching  doctrines  so  far  as  it  was  possible.  Then  again,  as  it 
was  said,  I  was  not  to  be  catechised,  I  would  avoid  catechising 
others.  Then  I  proceeded  to  the  1st  charge  (under  "the  book") 
made  by  —  -  that  it  was  "deistical,"  and  said  that  I  knew 
but  little  of  the  Deists,  but  so  far  as  I  knew  anything,  there  were 
four  classes  of  them,  which  were  named  by  Dr.  Sam.  Clarke,  in  a 
book  familiar  to  all  of  them ;  but  all  Deists  denied  the  possibility 
of  direct  inspiration  from  God.  Therefore,  as  inspiration  was  a  car 
dinal  point  in  my  system,  and  I  maintained  that  all  men  were  inspired 
just  in  proportion  to  their  quantity  of  being,  and  their  quantity  of 
obedience,  that  I  did  not  come  under  the  caption ;  or  if  I  am  a  Deist, 
I  must  be  put  in  a  class  by  myself  alone — and  then  it  was  arbitrary  to 
•call  me  by  a  name  that  did  not  describe  my  belief.  Then  I  proceeded 
to  the  second  charge  of  ,  viz.,  that  the  book  was  subver 
sive  of  Christianity,  &c.,  and  said  that  though  an  author's  opinion  of 
his  own  work  was  of  no  value  to  others,  yet  I  sincerely  thought  it 
was  a  most  Christian  book.  Christianity  was  one  of  three  things : 
either  (1)  less  than  absolute  religion,  or  (2)  equal  to  absolute  religion, 
or  (3)  absolute  religion,  and  something  more.  No  one,  I  would  assume 
for  argument's  sake,  would  admit  the  1st  proposition.  I  affirmed  the 
2nd,  they  the  3rd.  Therefore,  if  they  \vould  point  out  the  precise 
quiddity  that  made  absolute  religion,  Christianity,  they  would  do  a 
great  service.  That  other  sects  defined  the  shibboleths  of  Christianity 
to  their  mind,  but  the  Unitarians  had  no  symbolical  books,  and 
therefore  a  young  man  like  myself,  and  not  learned,  found  a  diffi 
culty.  I  ended  by  asking  to  tell  just  what  it  was  in  which 

Christianity  differe'd  from  absolute  religion.  He  replied,  "  But  I  will 
remind  Mr.  Parker,  that  he  is  not  to  catechise  me." 

Then  took  up  the  article  on  the  Hollis  Street  Council. 

said   that  in  that  article  I  held  up   the   Council   to  the 

scorn  and  derision  of  mankind,  representing  them  as  a  set  of  hypo 
crites,  and  double-dealing  knaves:  that  I  called  the  "result  in  council" 
a  "  Jesuitical  document,"  and  as  he  was  one  of  the  Council,  and  one 
that  drew  up  the  "result,"  he  contended  that  I  had  traduced  him, 
representing  him  as  a  double-dealing  and  base  man;  that  I  had 
undertaken  to  weaken  his  influence  and  ruin  his  character  with  the 
world  and  his  own  congregation,  and  so  far  as  my  influence  went,  that 
I  had  done  so.  This  kind  of  charge  he  continued  at  length — in  lan 
guage  and  manner  which  are  peculiar  to  him. 

I  then  replied  that  I  was  not  answerable  for  the  inference  which 
other  men  drew,  only  for  the  fact  of  what  I  had  written.  One  man 
said  I  slandered  the* brethren  in  the  sermon  of  "Pharisees;"  another 

in  the  conclusion  of  South  Boston  sermon  ;  and that  I  held 

him  up  to  scorn  in  the  article  of  the  Hollis  Street  Council.  I  was  not 
not  accountable  for  their  inferences. 

•  then  said,  that  he  did  consider  that  I  meant  the  Asso- 


. 

THEODORE   PARKER.  191 

ciation  in  the 4<  Pharisees"  and  in  the  South  Boston  sermon ;  an  ortho 
dox  gentleman  in  the  country  said  to  him,  "  You  have  madded  Parker, 
and  in  this  way  he  shows  his  spite.  He  is  in  your  confidence,  and 
knows  what  you  talk  about  in  the  Association,  and  tells  your  secrets." 
To  which  I  observed  that  as  it  regards  the  "  spite,"  and  the  being 
"mad,"  the  facts  spoke  —  the  " madding"  began  in  May,  1841:  the 
sermon  was  written  December,  1840. 

The  "  Pharisees"  spoke  of  six  classes  of  Pharisees ;  nobody  com 
plained  but  the  ministers.  I  should  be  ashamed  to  say  that  I  meant 
no  personalities  in  either  the  "  Pharisees,"  or  the  South  Boston  sermon. 

Then  says •,  "  since  Mr.  Parker  will  not  say  he  did  not  mean 

us— I  will  take  it  for  granted  that  he  does,"  &c.,  &c.  He  then  enlarged 
more  on  the  article  on  the  Hollis  Street  Council.  I  replied  that  if 
need  were,  I  would  condescend  to  say  that  I  meant  no  particular  and 
definite  persons  or  body  of  men,  in  either  case,  but  aimed  to  expose 
sin  and  Phariseeism  wherever  they  were — if  in  the  Association,  then 
there.  But  had  no  individuals  before  my  mind.  The  letter  on  the 
Hollis  Street  Council  stood  on  different  ground,  and  there  it  was  plain 
who  was  meant.  I  had  nothing  to  alter  or  add  to  that.  Some  said, 
You  called  the  result  in  council  a  "  Jesuitical  document ;"  another,  you 
brought  together  a  great  deal  of  matter  about  ecclesiastical  councils, 
and  about  cowards,  and  knaves,  and  hypocrites.  It  meant  somebody — 
I  suppose  it  meant  us.  I  did  not  read  it  very  carefully,  for  I  disliked 
it  so  much.  To  be  sure,  you  treated  the  writers  of  the  New  Testa- 
merit  in  about  the  same  way,  and  said  the  apostle  St.  James  "  roars 
like  a  fanatic  radical."  Then  some  one  said  "  You  quoted  the  words  of 
somebody — 'Expect  no  justice  of  the  Council,'  as  if  you  endorsed 
them."  I  told  them  I  did  not  endorse  them ;  since,  as  the  words  of 
a  great  and  wise  man,  they  required  no  endorsement  of  mine.  "  But 
you  applied  them  as  if  you  expected  no  justice."  I  did  so  then,  and 
do  now.  I  expected  no  justice  from  the  Council  at  the  time.  When 
I  wrote  I  thought  the  "  result,"  &c.,  a  most  Jesuitical  document — I 
think  so  still.  I  then  added  that  I  didn't  wish  to  write  the  article ; 
asked  others  to  do  so;  they  refused.  I  consulted  several  persons, 
telling  them  the  view  I  should  express  (three  of  them  were  present — 
but  I  did  not  say  so).  They  said,  "  Gro  on."  I  wrote  carefullv,  deliber 
ately,  conscientiously.  I  told  one  clergyman — who  had  no  affinity  with 
me — a  man  older  than  most  of  them,  Distinguished  for  good  sense  and 
piety- — what  I  had  said,  before  I  published ;  he  said,  "  You  are  right, 
say  it  in  Grod's  name."  I  read  it  to  another,  who  had  little  theological 
affinity  with  me — he  said,  "  Well,  it  ain't  much  after  all  for  you  to  write, 
and  I  have  but  this  criticism  to  make,  that  you  have  been  too  severe 
on  Mr.  Pierpont,  and  not  half  severe  enough  on  the  Council."  Then 
said  -  — ,  "  Well,  Mr.  P.  can't  disown  what  he  has  said ;  if  he  is 
conscientious,  as  no  doubt  he  is,  we  can't  ask  him  to  do  so.  1  will 
say  that  I  freely  and  from  my  heart  forgive  him,  as  I  hope  Grod 
Almighty  will  forgive  me;  but  I  can  never  grasp  him  by  the  hand 
again  cordially." 

Let  us  leave  this  subject  and  proceed  to  the  book.  He  then  said 
that  as  I  asked  what  was  to  be  added  to  absolute  religion  and  morality 
to  make  them  Christianity,  he  would  add,  the  miracles,  the  authority  of 
Christ,  which  I  did  not  acknowledge.  To  this  I  replied,  that  I  made 


192  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

Christianity  to  be  love  to  man  and  God ;  and,  admitting  miracles  were 
performed  (for  argument's  sake),  I  did  not  see  how  they  affected  the 
case — making  that  true  and  a  duty  which  was  not  so  before,  or  of 
authorizing  what  was  in  fact  true  and  a  duty.  But  further  than  that, 
I  did  not  believe  the  fact  of  his  working  miracles  as  a  general  thing. 
I  was  by  no  means  certain  that  the  four  Gospels  came  from  the  men  to 
whom  they  are  ascribed ;  and,  if  they  did,  I  could  not  take  their  word 
in  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  I  had  no  philosophical  objection  to 
a  miracle — in  my  definition  of  it — but  only  demanded  more  evidence 
than  for  a  common  event.  Then  some  one  said,  that  was  enough ;  it 
was  plain  I  was  no  Christian :  for  Christianity  was  a  supernatural  and 
a  miraculous  revelation.  To  which  I  said,  that  it  might  be,  but  it  had 
not  been  shown  to  be  such.  It  seemed  preposterous  to  make  miracles 
the  shibboleth  of  Christianity.  Each  sect  had  its  own  shibboleth.  The 
Trinitarians  the  Thirty-nine  Articles — the  Catholics  the  Church,  &c. 
Nobody  accused  me  of  preaching  less  than  absolute  morality  and  re 
ligion.  If  they  could  exist  without  Christianity,  what  was  the  use  of 
Christianity  ?  So  I  thought  it  a  mistake  to  make  absolute  religion  one 
thing  and  Christianity  something  different. 

Then  some  one  said, "  It  is  plain  we  can't  have  ministerial  intercourse 
with  Mr.  Parker:  he  denies  the  miracles." — Then  I  said  that  I  didn't 
think  it  depended  on  that,  it  was  only  a  theological  matter  at  best. 
The  difference  began  before  the  article  on  the  Hollis  Street  Council, 
before  the  "  Discourse  of  Religion  " — the  theological  lines  were 
drawn  immediately  after  the  South  Boston  sermon.  I  had  a  col 
lection  of  curious  letters  on  that  theme,  which  I  might  publish  one 
day.  I  was  at  first  surprised  at  the  effect  that  sermon  had  on  the 
Unitarian  ministers.  I  thought  the  sermon  a  poor  one — I  was  sick 
when  I  wrote  it — read  it  to  a  friend  before  preaching,  who  said  it  was 
the  weakest  thing  I  had  written  for  a  long  time.  I  looked  round  to 
see  who  would  stand  by  me  in  the  pulpit,  and  I  had  not  been  dis 
appointed  in  general.  I  knew  the  ministers  pretty  well.  But  in  two 

— Here  somebody  interrupted  me,  and brought  me  back  to  the 

point.  Mr.  P.  says  .there  are  two  things ;  I  want  to  hear  that.  I 
replied  that  I  had  not  been  disappointed  in  general ;  but  in  two 

persons  I  had  been  disappointed — grievously  disappointed.  's  face 

fell,  for  I  looked  full  upon  him  as  I  said  it.  However  he  soon  recovered, 
or  I  should  have  told  him  that  he  was  not  one  of  the  two.  Theii  said 

,  "  Since  Mr.  Parker  finds  the  feeling  in  respect  to  him  is  so 

general,  I  think  it  is  his  duty  to  withdraw  from  the  Association." 
Others  spoke  to  the  same  purpose — I  hurt  their  usefulness,  compromised 
their  position,  &c.  I  told  them  that  if  my  personal  feelings  alone  were 
concerned  I  would  gladly  do  so,  but  as  the  right  of  free  inquiry  was 
concerned,  while  the  world  standeth  I  will  never  do  so.  The  matter 
was  then  discussed  at  length. said,  if  it  were  a  meeting  of  free  in 
quirers  he  should  very  soon  withdraw.  I  showed  that  theological  agree 
ment  in  all  things  was  not  necessary  to  our  union,  and  quoted  the  case  of 
Dr.  Freeman,  for  many  years  a  member  of  the  Association,  who  never 

exchanged  with  him.     To  this replied  the  case  was  not  in  point, 

for  many  others  of  the  Association  were  not  Unitarians.     "  Indeed," 

said  I,  "  did  they  say  so  ?  "     Then said,   "  But  the   difference 

between  Trinitarians  and  Unitarians  is  a  difference  in  Christianity,  the 


THEODORE    PARKER.  193 

difference  between  Mr.  Parker  and  the  Association,  is  a  difference 

between  no  Christianity  and  Christianity."  Then  said,  they 

did  not  deny  that  I  was  a  Christian  man,  but  only  that  the  book  was 
a  Christian  book,  affirming  it,  as  it  was  on  account  of  the  miracles 
being  rejected.  Then  it  was  argued  that  I  should  not  now  be  ad 
mitted  to  the  Association,  when  my  opinions  were  known ;  and  there 
fore  that  I  either  had  changed  my  opinions  since  I  came,  or  came 
with  the  opinions  not  known  to  the  Association  :  in  either  case  that  I 
ought  to  withdraw.  I  replied  that  I  was  not  examined  as  to  my 
opinions  on  admission,  and  was  not  asked  to  promise  never  to  change. 
If  I  did  them  an  injury  they  had  the  remedy  in  their  hands,  and  could 
pass  a  vote  of  expulsion  at  any  time ;  but  it  was  a  new  thing  that 
the  shibboleth  of  Christianity  among  the  Unitarians  was  miracles.  A 
few  years  ago,  it  was  said  in  the  Association,  that  formerly  Christianity 
was  thought  to  rest  on  two  great  pillars, — Jachin  and  Boaz — prophecy 
and  miracles.  Dr.  Noyes  knocked  down  Jachin,  and  George  Bipley, 

Boaz,  yet  Christianity  stood.  If  I  remember  right  it  was •  who 

said  so.  "  True,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  I  do  remember  something  about 
Jachin  and  Boaz ;  but  I  did  not  say  that  I  was  one  of  them  who  said 
Christianity  did  not  rest  on  the  two,  still  less  did  I  say  that  George 
Bipley  had  knocked  the  miracles  down." 

So  they  talked  much  more  to  the  same  effect.  At  last,  a  little  before 
nine,  Bartol  spoke  in  praise  of  my  sincerity,  which  some  had  called  in 
question — spoke  many  words  of  moral  approbation ;  so  likewise  did 
Gannett,  at  length,  and  with  his  usual  earnestness.  Then  Chandler 
Bobbins  opened  his  mouth  to  the  same  purpose.  I  burst  into  tears, 
shook  hands  with  Waterston,  and  left  the  room.  Going  below  in  the 

entry,  I  met ,  who  had  gone  out  a  little  before.  He  shook  hands 

with  me  with  apparent  cordiality — hoped  I  would  come  and  see  him, 
&c.  So  the  matter  ended,  and  the  bells  struck  nine  as  I  left  the  house. 

I  ought  to  mention  one  thing  more,  namely,  that ,  in  course  of 

the  discussion,  said  that  I  dipped  my  pen  in  gall  when  I  wrote,  and  my 
razor  in  oil. 

GENERAL  NOTE  ON  THE  ABOTE. — I  may  have  mistaken  the  order  in 
which  things  were  said,  and  have  put  in  one  sentence  what  was  uttered 
at  several  times.  But  I  am  confident  that  I  have  preserved  the  opinions 
of  each  that  spoke,  and  often  the  language  ;  and  also  that  I  have  omitted 
nothing  which  would  alter  the  character  of  the  discussion. 

Soon  after  this  (three  or  four  days)  I  received  a  letter  from  Chandler 
Bobbins. 

To  which  the  following  is  a  reply : — 

TO    REV.    CHANDLER   ROBBINS,    BOSTON. 

«.-  Plymouth,  Sunday  Morn.,  January  27,  1843. 

MY  DEAB  FRIEND, — I  thank  you  truly  for  your  kind  note  of 
Thursday  last ;  thank  you  for  your  sympathy  ;  thank  you,  too,  for  the 
caution  you  give  me.  I  can  live  with  no  sympathy  but  that  of  the  In 
finite,  and  His  still,  small  voice  saying,  "  Well  done  !"  but  when  sym 
pathy — human  sympathy,  comes,  it  is  truly  welcome.  You  mistake  a 
little  the  cause  of  my  tears  the  other  night.  It  was  not  a  hard  thing 
said  by  yourself  or  others.  All  might  have  said  such  as  long  as  they 
14 


194  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

liked  ;  I  would  not  have  winked  at  that.  It  was  the  kind  things  said 
by  Bartol  and  Gannett,  and  what  I  knew  by  your  face  you  were  about 
to  say ;  it  was  this  that  made  me  weep.  I  could  meet  argument  with 
argument  (in  a  place  where  it  is  in  order  to  discuss  "  the  subjects  "  of 
a  theological  book  which  is  talked  of),  blow  with  blow,  ill-nature  with 
good-nature,  all  night  long ;  but  the  moment  a  man  takes  my  part,  and 
says  a  word  of  sympathy,  that  moment  I  should  become  a  woman  and 
no  man.  If  Pierpont  had  been  present,  I  should  have  asked  him,  at 
the  beginning,  to  say  no  word  in  defence  of  me,  but  as  many  of  offence 
as  he  liked.  I  felt  afraid,  at  first,  that  a  kind  thing  might  be  said 
earlier  in  the  evening,  and  am  grateful  to  the  "  brethren  "  that  they 
said  none  such  till  late. 

But  to  leave  this  painful  theme.  I  knew  always  the  risks  that  I  run 
in  saying  what  was  hostile  to  the  popular  theology.  I  have  not  forgotten 
George  Fox,  nor  Priestley ;  no,  nor  yet  Abelard  nor  St.  Paul.  Don't 
think  I  compare  myself  with  these  noble  men,  except  in  this,  that  each 
of  them  was  called  on  to  stand  alone,  and  so  am  I.  I  know  what  Paul 
meant  when  he  said,  "  At  my  first  answer  no  man  stood  with  me ;"  but 
I  know  also  what  is  meant  when  a  greater  than  Paul  said,  "  Yet  I  am 
not  alone ;  for  the  Father  is  with  me." 

If  my  life  ends  to-morrow,  I  can  say, — 

"  I  have  the  richest,  best  of  consolations, 
The  thought  that  I  have  given, 
To  serve  the  cause  of  Heaven, 
The  freshness  of  my  early  inspirations." 

I  care  not  what  the  result  is  to  me  personally.  I  am  equal  to  either 
fate,  and  ask  only  a  chance  to  do  my  duty.  No  doubt  my  life  is  to  be 
outwardly  a  life  of  gloom  and  separation  from  old  associates  (I  will  not 
say  friends).  I  know  men  will  view  me  with  suspicion,  and  ministers 
with  hatred  ;  that  is  not  my  concern.  Inwardly,  my  life  is,  and  must 
be,  one  of  profound  peace— of  satisfaction  and  comfort  that  all  words  of 
mine  are  powerless  to  present.  There  is  no  mortal  trouble  that  disturbs 
me  more  than  a  moment — no  disappointment  that  makes  me  gloomy,  or 
sad,  or  distrustful.  All  outward  evil  falls  off  me  as  snow  from  my  cloak. 
I  never  thought  of  being  so  happy  in  this  life  as  I  have  been  these  two 
years.  The  destructive  part  of  the  work  I  feel  called  on  to  do  is  pain 
ful,  but  is  slight  compared  with  the  main  work  of  building  up.  Don't 
think  I  am  flattered,  as  some  say,  by  seeing  many  come  to  listen. 
Nothing  makes  a  real  man  so  humble  as  to  stand  and  speak  to  many 
men.  The  thought  that  I  am  doing  what  I  know  to  be  my  duty  is  rich 
reward  to  me ;  I  know  of  none  so  great.  Besides  that,  however,  I  have 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  have  awakened  the  spirit  of  religion, 
of  faith  in  God,  in  some  twenty  or  twenty-five  men,  who  before  that 
had  no  faith,  no  hope,  no  religion.  This  alone,  and  the  expression  of  their 
gratitude  (made  by  word  of  mouth,  or  made  by  letters,  or  by  a  friend), 
would  compensate  me  for  all  that  all  the  ministers  in  all  the  world  could 
say  against  me  or  do  against  me.  But  why  do  I  speak  of  this  ?  Only 
to  show  you  that  I  am  not  likely  to  be  cast  down.  Some  of  my  rela 
tions,  200  or  300  years  ago,  lost  their  heads  for  their  religion.  I  am 
called  to  no  such  trial,  and  can  well  bear  my  lighter  cross. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  195 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  that,  if  the  Association  think  I  compromise 
them,  and  injure  them  and  hurt  their  usefulness,  they  have  the  remedy 
in  their  own  hands,  and  in  one  minute  can  vote  me  out  of  their  ranks. 
At  that  I  will  never  complain ;  but  so  long  as  the  world  standeth  I 
will  not  withdraw  voluntarily  while  I  consider  rights  of  conscience  at 
issue.  I  think,  too,  that,  when  I  shall  have  more  leisure  (as  I  shall  in 
a  few  weeks),  I  shall  attend  the  meetings  more  frequently  than  hereto 
fore.  To  withdraw  voluntarily  would  be  to  abandon  what  I  think  a  post 
of  duty. 

Excuse  this  long  letter,  and  believe  me, 

Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PABKER, 

In  the  summer  of  1843,  his  translation  of  De  Wette's  "  Intro- 
duction  to  the  Old  Testament "  appeared.  He  had  so  modified 
the  arrangement  of  its  text,  by  throwing  all  the  bibliography 
into  notes,  and  introducing  illustrative  matter  from  the  German 
sources,  that  his  edition  became  more  convenient  than  the 
original.  He  also  judiciously  interpolated  matter  of  his  own,  as 
in  the  chapter  on  the  Latin  versions  of  the  Bible,  the  excellent 
description  of  the  Venetian  version,  and  a  continuation  of  the 
author's  account  of  the  Samaritan  Pentateuch.  In  the  books  of 
Samuel  and  of  the  Kings,  he  has  several  pages  to  bring  out 
more  fully  their  characteristics.  His  pen  assists  materially  in 
clearing  up  Leviticus,  His  contribution  to  Daniel  is  now  acknow 
ledged  by  most  theologians.  He  finds  a  historical  occasion  for  the 
prophecy  which  Isaiah  uttered  against  Tyre.  Occasionally  he 
gives  a  reason  for  not  agreeing  with  De  Wette,  as  in  Vol.  2, 
188,  and  he  boldly  shows  the  mythological  elements  where 
the  author's  pen  is  disposed  to  falter. 

This  was  a  labour  of  great  service,  which  was  frequently 
recognized  in  various  quarters  by  intelligent  persons  who  never 
before  could  acquire  clear  ideas  of  the  composition  of  the 
Old  Testament,  the  canon,  the  Jehovistic  and  Elohistic  docu 
ments,  and  the  intention  of  the  various  books.  A  book  in 
English,  based  upon  the  latest  learning,  and  carefully  treating 
the  Old  Testament  from  the  point  of  historical  criticism,  and 
in  the  interest  of  no  theological  party,  was  a  want  which  this 
translation  met.  Later  labourers  in  this  field,  of  more  narrow 
and  orthodox  tendency,  acknowledge  still  a  healthy  direction  in 
De  Wette's  work,  and  that  he  opened  the  way.  De  Wette 
afterwards  modified  a  few  statements  in  his  "Supplement  to  An 
Introduction  ;  "  but  his  original  judgment  was  more  sound.  A 
vast  amount  of  valuable  information  is  brought  together  in  these 


196  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

two  volumes,  in  an  orderly  and  scientific  way,  subservient  to  the 
only  kind  of  criticism  which  can  save  the  Old  Testament  from 
the  marauding  of  superstition,  and  leave  it  cultivable  by  simple, 
reverent  human  sympathy. 

Nothing  shows  so  well  the  value  of  De  Wette's  method  of 
treating  the  Old  Testament,  as  the  attempts  of  later  critics  to  clear 
up  in  a  historical  way  the  historical  difficulties  he  finds.  Thus 
the  very  point  in  dispute  between  bibliolatry  and  reason  is 
surrendered.  The  Bible  must  be  treated  like  any  other  ancient 
collection  of  documents.  The  appeal  is  made  to  uninspired 
sources  to  defend  the  authenticity  of  the  so-called  inspired 
books.  Nineveh  bricks  and  sculptures,  excavators,  explorers, 
Egyptologers,  comparative  philologers,  a  more  careful  investiga 
tion  of  the  whole  written  and  monumental  past,  will  doubtless 
yield  many  historical  confirmations  to  whatever  history  the  Old 
Testament  contains.  It  may  occasionally  discover  an  actual  occur 
rence  embedded  in  supernatural  and  legendary  stuff.  That  will 
be  clear  gain,  for  it  substitutes  a  fact  for  a  fancy.  Let  the  smallest 
relic  be  carefully  hammered  out  of  its  conglomerate.  The  scholars 
of  all  creeds  ought  to  countenance  this  rational  tendency.  It  is 
not  difficult  to  prophesy  the  end  of  it — an  extrication,  namely, 
of  the  historical  from  the  mythological.  Ahasuerus,  for  instance, 
may  turn  out  to  be  Xerxes,  and  the  Feast  of  Purim  the  com 
memoration  of  a  real  event.  So  much  the  better ;  we  have  a 
historical  fact.  There  may  be  fewer  incongruities  in  the  book  of 
Daniel,  but  that  does  not  reinforce  its  mythological  element.  The 
horns  of  its  visions  will  not  the  less  toss  and  worry  the  prophecy- 
mongers  of  every  description,  till  scholarship  rescues  the  whole 
book  from  ignorance.  The  historical  may  be  everywhere  proved 
and  vindicated,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  mythological ;  its 
incompatibility  will  only  the  more  appear. 

What  an  astonishing  infatuation  is  that  of  some  English 
scholars,  who  think  that  the  more  historical  they  find  the  Old 
Testament  to  be,  the  less  incredible  its  supernaturalism  becomes  ! 

In  the  autumn  of  1843,  Mr.  Parker  found  himself  fairly  ex 
hausted  with  the  unusual  labours  and  experiences  of  the  two 
previous  years.  He  chafed  as  he  recorded  the  days  and  weeks 
which  had  been  lost  in  consequence  of  illness  and  depression. 
Following  the  advice  of  friends  he  left  his  parish,  to  prosecute  a 
long  dreamed  of  tour  in  Europe.  Here  are  extracts  from  the 
sermon  which  he  preached  just  before  he  started,  fiom  the  text, 


THEODORE   PARKER.  197 

"I  have  not  shunned  to  declare  unto  you  all  the  counsel  of 
God."  After  describing  the  duties  of  a  minister  of  religion,  he 
says : — 

Such  being  a  minister's  function,  it  is  plain  there  are  two  several 
dangers  which  await  him :  one,  that  he  becomes  over-confident,  opi 
nionated,  and  teaches  mere  whimsies  and  spectres  of  his  own  brain 
instead  of  everlasting  truths — in  short,  that  he  err  through  excessive 
confidence  in  himself — aspiring  to  lead  where  he  is  only  competent  to 
follow.  The  other  danger  is,  that  he  succumb  to  things  as  they  are 
about  him ;  take  the  opinions  of  his  sect,  or  the  public,  for  truth,  and 
the  practice  of  his  neighbourhood,  or  the  public,  for  religion,  and  sit 
down  contented  to  repeat  the  echoes  of  his  time  and  place.  Then  the 
man  becomes  a  mere  thing — with  no  independence,  no  self-respect,  no 
power,  a  mockery  set  up  in  a  place  designed  for  a  man.  If  a 
minister  consents  to  hold  this  place,  he  may  have  the  greatest  original 
power  of  thought,  fortified  with  the  finest  culture  and  the  widest  learn 
ing  ; — what  does  it  all  avail  him  ?  Nothing !  He  becomes  a  Prophet 
of  Lies,  a  blind  leader  of  blind  men,  fit  only  to  dangle  about  the  tables 
of  rich  men.  His  genius  goes  from  him,  his  learning  becomes  of  no 
value,  his  culture  ridiculous.  Though  born  a  giant,  and  armed  in  the 
panoply  of  clerical  mail,  and  master  of  the  most  crafty  skill  to  boot,  a 
single  shepherd  boy  with  a  true  heart  can  bring  this  boastful  champion 
to  the  ground  and  smite  off  his  giant  head.  The  fate  of  such  a  man 
shall  be  that  which  is  recorded  of  one  who  disobeyed  God  and  ate  the 
bread  of  a  liar — he  fell  by  the  wayside,  and  the  men  that  passed  by 
saw  there  a  dead  prophet  and  a  living  asst 

I  have  attempted  to  show  that  sentiments,  ideas,  and  actions,  be 
longed  to  religion — that  what  was  at  first  a  feeling  got  next  an  intellec 
tual  expression  and  became  an  idea,  then  a  functional  expression  and 
became  a  deed.  Taking  Christianity  as  the  absolute  religion,  I  have 
insisted  on  Christian  sentiments  as  the  foundation  of  all,  oil  Christian 
ideas,  on  Christian  works.  I  have  endeavoured  to  legitimate  the  senti 
ments  and  ideas,  and  then  to  apply  the  ideas  to  life,  in  part  to  criticise 
existing  institutions,  and  in  part  to  create  new  institutions  thereby. 
Tried  by  Christian  sentiments  and  ideas,  you  know  how  the  popular 
sentiments,  the  popular  opinions,  and  the  common  life  must  appear.  I 
have  shown  that  these  ideas  must  at  length  prevail,  for  they  are  the 
ideas  of  God ;  in  this  connection  I  have  dwelt  often  on  what  I  call  the 
immanency  of  God  in  matter  and  in  spirit,  His  perpetual  presence  and 
activity  in  the  world  of  matter  and  the  world  of  spirit,  the  laws 
whereof  are  but  modes  of  His  activity,  and  the  results  forms  of  His 
manifestation.  I  have  shown  that  there  was  fate  nowhere,  Providence 
everywhere  and  always.  Hence  it  followed  that  the  material  world  is 
inspired  by  God  according  to  its  measure  of  reception ;  that  mankind 
as  a  whole,  and  each  man  in  severalty,  is  also  inspired  just  in  propor 
tion  to  the  man's  natural  ability  and  his  faithful  use  thereof.  From  all 
this  it  follows,  that  the  providence  of  our  Father  in  heaven  has  created 
a  perfect  system  of  optimism,  of  which  we  comprehend  but  little  by 
the  understanding,  though  we  have  a  fore-feeling  thereof  by  the  affec 
tions  and  religious  sentiment ;  that  this  life  was  but  a  small  part  of  the 


198  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

whole,  and  the  evils  incident  to  the  present  conditions  would  at  last 
lead  to  higher  good. 

I  have  not  taught  these  results  on  the  authority  of  any  church,  any 
book,  any  man  ;  I  have  appealed  only  to  facts,  facts  of  necessity,  facts 
of  consciousness,  facts  of  demonstration,  and  facts  of  observation.  I 
have  tried  to  teach  absolute  religion  on  its  own  authority. 

I  found  less  than  ten  Unitarian  clergymen  who  were  willing  to 
exchange  with  me.  I  often  said  with  the  melancholy  prophet,  "  Woe 
is  me,  my  mother,  that  thou  hast  borne  me  to  be  a  man  of  strife  and 
a  man  of  contention  to  the  whole  earth  ;  I  have  neither  lent  on  usury, 
nor  men  have  lent  to  me  on  usury,  yet  every  one  of  them  doth  curse 
me."  Fear  in  the  churches,  like  fire  in  the  wroods,  runs  fast  and  far, 
leaving  few  spots  not  burned.  I  did  not  know  what  you  would  do ; 
I  thought  you  would  do  as  others  did  ;  there  are  times  which  try  men, 
there  are  men  who  must  not  be  tried  ;  I  feared  that  this  church  might 
be  of  that  metal ;  others  had  promised  more  but  fled  at  the  first  fire. 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  you  might  ask  a  dissolution  of  our  union ; 
I  calculated  ts  value ;  I  did  not  think  of  begging,  I  knew  I  could 
dig,— 

"  For  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now,  some  ten  years  wasted,  they  have  used 
Their  dearest  action  in  the  furrowed  field." 

I  knew  my  hands  could  win  my  bread,  for  they  could  toil  at  nu 
merous  crafts,  and  were  perhaps  better  educated  than  my  head;  I 
never  thought  of  being  silenced.  The  fact  that  a  truth  was  unpopular 
was  the  reason  why  it  should  'be  spoken  with  a  thousand  tongues.  In 
case  you  had  refused  to  hear  my  voice,  this  was  my  plan,  to  betake 
myself  for  six  or  eight  months  of  the  year  to  any  work  which  might 
offer,  and  the  rest  of  the  year  to  go  forth  and  proclaim  the  word  which 
was  so  unpopular  in  all  parts  of  the  land.  If  I  couid  not  find  a  place 
in  a  church,  then  I  meant  to  take  it  in  a  hall,  in  a  school-house,  or  a 
barn,  under  the  open  sky  wherever  a  word  could  be  spoken  and  heard. 

But  I  must  bring  all  this  to  a  close ;  what  shall  I  say  ?  Has  my 
ministry  thus  far  been  a  faithful  one  ?  I  cannot  judge  myself.  In 
some  things  it  has  surpassed  my  expectations :  in  others  fallen  far 
short  of  it.  You  shall  say  whether  or  not  I  have  done  good  to  your 
hearts,  and  thereby  made  your  lives  better.  If  I  have  deepened  your 
love  of  truth,  if  I  have  helped  you  to  a  clearer  knowledge  of  duty,  if 
I  have  enabled  you  to  bear  better  the  burthens  of  life,  to  love  man 
and  God,  to  obey  His  laws,  meekly  and  reverently  to  trust  therein 
with  a  calmness  which  the  world  cannot  disturb ;  if  I  have  persuaded 
or  helped  any  of  you  to  aspire  after  a  manly  character  and  a  divine 
life,  then  I  feel  that  I  have  not  laboured  in  vain. 

"VVe  have  discoursed  on  the  loftiest  themes ;  for  six  years  our  prayers 
have  been  mingled  together.  Here  we  have  assembled  for  a  closer 
remembrance  of  one  so  dear  to  our  heart  and  the  world's  heart.  The 
recollection  of  these  modest  walls,  of  these  familiar  faces,  while  they 
bring  tears  to  my  eyes,  will  bring  not  less  joy  to  my  heart.  May  God 
bless  you  and  keep  you,  and  lift  the  light  of  His  countenance  upon 


THEODORE    PARKER. 


199 


you;  may  reason  guide  you;    may  religion  be  your  daily  life,  your 
hope  and  your  portion  for  ever  and  ever.     Farewell ! 


FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 


September  5. — To-day  I  leave  home  for  a  year ;  it  had  long  been  a 
day-dream  with  me  to  visit  Europe,  it  now  approaches  fulfilment.  A 
friend  kindly  furnishes  me  the  means. 


<3.  E.  RUSSELL'S  HOUSE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

To  Europe — France,  Italy,  Germany — Extracts  from  Journal. 

WHILE  Mr.  Parker  was  waiting  in  New  York  for  the  ship  to 
sail  in  which  he  had  taken  passage,  he  made  a  visit  to  the  city 
prison  called  the  "  Tombs/' 

The  taste  which  would  expend  all  that  architecture  on  a  building  so 
loathsome  as  a  jail  is  most  wretched.  Shame  that  the  disgrace  of 
society  should  be  thus  arrayed  in  costly  dress,  and  made  to  flaunt 
before  the  public  eye.  In  New  England*  we  hide  our  jails  ;  for  we  are 
ashamed  of  them,  and  very  justly.  You  shall  go  through  our  shire- 
towns  again  and  again  and  never  see  the  jail.  I  went  into  the  court 
house  to  see  justice  administered.  A  negro  was  on  trial  in  the  Court 
of  Sessions  for  abusing  his  wife.  It  seemed  to  me  the  place  was  well 
called  "  Egyptian,"  for  the  darkness  that  covered  over  justice  in  that 
place ;  and  "  Tombs,"  for  it  appeared  the  sepulchre  of  equity.  This  poor 
negro  at  trial  for  a  crime  showed  me  in  miniature  the  whole  of  our 
social  institutions.  1.  He  was  the  victim  of  Christian  cupidity,  and 
had  been  a  slave.  2.  From  this  he  had  probably  escaped,  by  what  was 
counted  a  crime  by  his  master.  3.  He  was  cast  loose  in  a  society 
where  his  colour  debarred  him  the  rights  of  a  man,  and  forced  him  to 
count  himself  a  beast,  with  nothing  to  excite  relf-respect  either  in  his 
condition,  his  history,  or  his  prospects.  Poor,  wretched  man,  what  is 
life  to  him  !  He  is  more  degraded  than  the  savage,  has  lost  much  in 
leaving  Sahara,  and  gained  infamy,  cold,  hunger,  and  the  white  man's 
mercy — a  prison  of  marble.  Oh,  what  wrongs  does  man  heap  on 
man ! 

Here  was  a  man  who  had  got  drunk,  and  was  clapped  into  the 
"  Tombs."  His  wife  and  two  children  were  left  with  no  protector. 
He  had  waited  five  days  for  his  trial.  This  was  a  hard  case,  truly.  I 
might  have  got  drunk  at  the  Astor  House  and  have  gone  to  bed  every 
day  ;  the  police  would  take  no  notice  of  that.  This  poor  fellow  must 
smart. 

He  sailed  on  the  9th  in  the  Ashburton.  After  five  or  six 
days  of  sea-sickness  he  attacks  books  again,  and  makes  ob 
servations  of  a  practical  nature. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  201 

There  is  one  thing  that  disturbs  me  much  at  sea ;  that  is,  the  awful 
difference  between  the  cabin  and  the  steerage,  or  the  forecastle.  If  I 
were  in  the  forecastle,  perhaps  it  would  not'  appear  so  bad ;  I  might 
think  the  men  in  the  cabin  deserved  their  pre-eminence  of  ease  and 
comfort.  Now,  I  know  it  is  not  so.  Here  are  160  poor  wretches  in 
the  steerage,  with  almost  no  comforts,  while  the  30  in  the  cabin  live  in 
luxury.  As  the  lion  in  the  wilderness  eateth  up  the  wild  ass,  so  the 
rich  eat  up  the  poor.  Alas !  this  truth  is  told  us  often  enough ;  in 
great  cities  it  is  thundered  in  our  ears  each  moment,  but  in  that  little 
despotism,  a  ship,  you  see  the  whole  thing  more  clearly,  because  more 
compendiously.  There  must  be  a  cure  for  this  terrible  evil.  What 
is  it? 

Here  comes  a  list  of  various  patent  medicines  for  social  ills. 
But  he  proceeds  : — 

The  evil  lies  deeper.  I  look  for  relief  only  gradually,  by  applying 
good  sense  to  religion,  and  religion  to  life.  This  is  the  field  in  which  I 
design  to  labour. 

I  am  now  to  spend  a  year  in  foreign  travel.  In  this  year  I  shall 
earn  nothing ;  neither  my  food,  nor  my  clothes,  nor  even  the  paper  I 
write  on.  Of  course  I  shall  increase  my  debt  to  the  world  by  every 
potato  I  eat,  and  each  mile  I  travel.  How  shall  I  repay  the  debt  ? 
Only  by  extraordinary  efforts  after  I  return.  I  hope  to  continue  my 
present  plans  in  this  way. 

A.  Practical. 

1.  To  work  in  behalf  of  temperance,  education,  a  change  in 

the  social  fabric,  so  that  the  weak  shall  not  be  the  slaves 
of  the  strong. 

2.  To  show  that  religion  belongs  to  man's  nature,  that  it 

demands  piety  and  morality  (the  inward  sentiment,  the 
outward  action),  and  theology  (the  mediator  between  the 
two. 

B.  Speculative. 

1.  To  write  an  introduction  to  the  New  Testament. 

2.  To  write  a  historical  development  of  religion  in  the  history 

of  man.* 

3.  Such  other  works  as  may  become  necessary,  e.  g.,  a  popular 

introduction  to  the  Old  Testament,  in  12mo. 
In  this  way  I  hope  to  work  out  my  "debt. 

Finding  that  the  sea  life  did  not  favour  reading,  he  began  to 
gather  hints  for  sermons.  There  are  37  subjects  in  all ;  one  of 
which  is  designated  by  the  Italian  proverb,  "  La  farina  del 
diavolo  va  tutta  in  crusca "  (The  devil's  wheat  grinds  all  to 
bran). 

As  soon  as  he  lands  at  Liverpool  he  begins  to  visit  and 
observe  everything — nothing  escapes.  All  is  characterized  with 

*  This  is  the  projected  work  for  which  he  gathered  a  great  amount  of  material,  under 
appropriate  heads — enough  for  one  or  two  volumes. 


202  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

a  touch ;  the  warehouses,  enormous  docks,  monuments,  beggars 
in  the  streets,  the  markets,  with  the  prices  of  all  the  meats  and 
vegetables,  clean  servants  "  looking  like  Methodist  ministers/'  rich 
churches  ;  "  but  I  have  thought  there  were  two  ways  of  honour 
ing  God,  one  in  marble  and  mortar,  the  other  in  benevolence 
and  daily  duty.  I  love  the  beautiful  like  a  poet ;  but  potatoes 
first  and  paintings  afterwards  is  my  rule ; "  factories  at  Man 
chester,  machines,  men,  colleges,  and  curiosities  everywhere.  He 
draws  the  plans  of  public  buildings,  occasionally  gets  in  a  Pusey- 
istic  profile,  unscrupulously  strips  an  evangelical  sermon  ;  seeing 
Scotus  Erigena,  "  De  Divisione  Naturse  "  on  a  library  shelf,  he 
forgets  everything  and  sits  down  to  read.  In  the  libraries  he  is 
particular  to  examine  as  many  manuscripts  as  he  can  find  time 
for.  He  took  dinner  with  Mr.  John  James  Tayler,  a  Unitarian 
clergyman,  and  met  Professor  Newman. 

We  talked  about  various  matters  o{  scholarship.  He  thought 
Xenophon  gave  the  truer  account  of  Socrates — so  thought  Tayler.  I 
stood  out  for  Plato's  account — of  course  somewhat  idealized,  else  we 
could  not  explain  the  hostility  of  the  Athenians  (excited  by  the  orators, 
who  were  all  sophists),  nor  for  the  influence  he  exerted  on  the  world, 
then  and  since  then.  Professor  Newman  did  not  like  Plato;  he 
thought  he  never  did  the  sophists  justice  ;  that  Protagoras  was  not  so 
bad  as  Plato  made  him.  This  led  to  a  long  discussion  of  the  functions 
of  the  sophists,  and  the  cause  of  their  origin  at  that  period.  Newman 
thought  they  were  a  sort  of  private  tutor,  and  not  so  black  as  they 
were  often  painted.  I  added  that  the  state  of  theology  naturally 
helped  form  this  race  of  men.  Then  we  came  upon  the  "  Republic." 
Mr.  N.  thought  it  foolish  to  attempt  such  a  work,  which  must  neces 
sarily  be  vain.  I  defended  the  scheme  as  a  method  of  putting  forth 
great  thoughts.  This  led  to  a  talk  about  the  truths  which  lay  at  the 
bottom  of  the  treatise.  Then  we  spoke  about  Aristotle ;  his  better 
method  of  giving  an  account  of  the  actual. 

Professor  Newman  surprises  me.  I  know  many  that  I  think  have 
more  native  power  than  he ;  but  few  of  our  scholars  show  such  accurate 
and  varied  learning — such  accomplished  scholarship." 

Few  indeed ;  but  here  is  one  who  meets  the  scholars  of  the 
old  world,  in  England  and  on  the  Continent ;  knows  what  they 
know  ;  has  read  as  fully,  if  not  as  minutely ;  and  can  hold 
dignified  intercourse  upon  their  varied  themes — and  they,  too, 
bred  in  the  costly  force-houses  of  universities.  It  is  singular  to 
follow  this  poor  boy,  who  carries  learning  back  to  its  seats  in 
Europe. 

In  the  Bodleian,  he  applies  himself  to  reading  some  scholastic 
books  not  to  be  found  in  America. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  203 

At  Paris,  he  carries  on  the  same  minute  investigation,  noticing 
the  men  and  women,  the  habits  of  the  street  and  house,  as 
much  as  the  monuments  of  art.  He  begins  to  attend  lectures 
on  Arabic,  Corneille,  Cicero,  philosophy  of  Gassendi  and  Descartes, 
law  of  nature  and  nations,  ancient  history,  mysticism  of  the 
Alexandrine  school,  unity  of  the  human  race,  and  Italian  litera 
ture.  There  is  an  analysis  of  every  lecture  which  he  hears. 
He  even  goes  to  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  to  hear  GeofFry  St. 
Hilaire  lecture  on  vultures  ;  and  carries  classification,  habits,  and 
anecdotes  —  the  whole  spoil,  home  with  him.  But  all  these 
scholar's  notes  are  not  in  a  condition  to  be  published.  Pretty 
soon  the  journal  begins  to  be  written  in  French,  by  way  of 
exercise. 

In  the  Spanish  Gallery  of  the  Louvre  :  — 

I  would  that  I  had  a  copy  of  the  "  Saviour  "  to  hang  in  my  house, 
to  cheer  me  in  my  hours  of  sadness,  and  inspire  me  in  my  moments  of 
happiness.  But  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  it  here,  where  all  see  it. 

I  saw  a  Frenchman  kiss  his  horse  in  the  street  to-day  ;  a  fine,  noble 
horse  it  was,  too.  I  also  came  up  and  paid  my  respects,  though  not 
with  my  lips. 

He  carries  off  a  list  of  the  curious  names  of  streets,  to  be 
enquired  into  at  leisure  :  —  Git-le-cwur,  Pic-pus,  Tait-bout,  Tire- 
chappe,  Brise-miche,  Tire-boudin,  Chat-qui-peche,  Cloche-perche, 
and  all  the  rest. 


To  AYIGIS-ON.  —  Sunday,  Dec.  31.  —  In  the  morning  I  strolled  out  to 
enjoy  the  Sabbath  awhile,  on  the  pons  ingens  et  sublicius  which  crosses 
the  Rhone,  and  had  myself  to  myself.  At  4  P.M.  we  started  in  a 
diligence  for  Avignon,  and  passed  the  Rhone. 

We  rode,  and  rode,  and  rode  on  the  left  hank  of  the  Bhone  ;  and,  at 
12,  wished  one  another  a  happy  new  year,  which  awoke  separate  trains 
of  thought  in  our  heads,  and  sent  us  far  from  the  Bhone. 

Jan.  1.  —  "We  rode  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  took  a  hasty  break 
fast  at  a  little  inn.  This  is  the  first  day  of  January,  1844.  It  is  mild 
as  an  April  day  with  us.  The  Bhone  is  on  one  hand,  the  mountain 
chains  come  down  on  the  other,  bold,  naked,  and  picturesque.  Here 
the  plains  are  covered  with  mulberry-trees,  kept  from  attaining  more 
than  eighteen  to  twenty-five  feet  in  height,  and  reared  to  feed  the  silk 
worms  ;  underneath,  crops  of  wheat  are  raised,  or  else,  where  the  trees 
are  far  asunder,  the  whole  is  covered  with  vines.  Some  of  them  have 
been  pruned  already.  Some  of  the  towns  are  beautifully  situated. 
Here  the  rocks  rise  up  200  feet  almost  perpendicularly,  and  just  at 
their  foot  the  village  is  built.  On  the  top  of  the  rock  are  the  remains 
of  a  wall  and  towers,  which  still  look  imposing  at  that  height.  All 
round  in  the  fields  there  grows  a  shrub  resembling  the  box,  it  is  called 
buis.  Here,  too,  the  olive  grows  in  perfection;  all  the  soil  seems 


204  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

wretchedly  thin  and  poor,  yet  on  the  poorest  knolls  the  clumps  of  olive- 
trees  offer  their  perpetual  green.  In  the  summer,  I  fancy,  they  do  not 
look  beautiful,  for  they  have  a  dusty  aspect,  and  are  not  bright  green ; 
but  now  they  give  a  very  cheerful  appearance  to  the  fields. 

To-day  we  have  passed  the  place  where  Hannibal  crossed  the  Rhone, 
and  pushed  on  towards  the  Little  St.  Bernard,  where  he  crossed  the 
Alps.  The  whole  country  is  to  me  one  of  great  historical  interest,  rich 
with  incidents  from  the  times  of  Ca3sar  to  the  Crusades.  I  regret  that 
all  my  life  I  have  been  so  poorly  supplied  with  maps,  that  much  of  my 
historical  reading  has  not  half  its  value,  because  I  could  not  designate 
the  special  place  where  events  happened.  I  feel  the  want  now  par 
ticularly. 

FROM  AYIGNON  TO  AELES. — We  went  to  the  diligence-office  to  go  to 
Aries.  We  had  taken  our  places  the  day  before,  and  found  that  we  had 
before  us  a  chapter  of  accidents  as  follows : — 1.  The  diligence  had  no 
interieur  (where  we  had  taken  the  four  first  places),  but  only  a  coupe 
and  a  rotond.  2.  There  was  a  large  woman,  hideously  dirty,  and  puante 
to  the  last  degree,  with  a  squalling  enfant  in  her  arms,  which  she  ever 
and  anon  regaled  with  the  breast,  or  an  apple,  for  he  alternated  between 
the  two.  3.  After  riding  about  half-an  hour,  we  came  to  the  Durance, 
which  had  lost  its  bridge,  in  1840,  perhaps,  and  had  not  found  the 
whole  of  it  yet ;  so  we  had  to  dismount  and  be  ferried  over  the  blue 
stream,  this  took  us  a  good  while ;  we  thought  it  durance  vile.  4.  I 
left  my  parapluie  in  the  diligence,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  conducteur, 
and  when  I  went  back  to  take  my  place,  found  the  great  woman,  whom 
we  named  Mdme.  Fumeau,  had  se  mit  sur  la,  and  it  was  cassee ;  therefore, 
voila  ma  parapluie  cassee.  5.  We  reached  Tarascon,  and  passed  over  its 
long  bridge,  and  got  safe  into  Beaucaire  at  5  o'clock  ;  where  we  had  to 
sit  down  in  a  coach-office,  with  a  stone  floor  and  heaps  of  lug 
gage,  and  in  an  atmosphere  which  would  generate  onions,  to  wait 
till  7  for  the  coach  to  Aries.  6.  At  last  it  came,  and  we  got  in 
and  went  to  Aries,  when,  behold!  there  was  nothing  at  Arlea 
to  see,  and  we  were  further  from  Marseilles  than  before.  However, 
our  friends  the  Scottish  lady  and  gentleman  are  with  us  still. 

Went  to  the  Cathedral.  "It  contains  a  curious  bas-relief,  representing 
the  Passage  of  the  Red  Sea.  Here  the  Lord  is  riding  on  a  horse,  and 
troubling  the  Egyptians ;  for  He  rides  over  them,  while  Moses  and  his 
friends  reach  toute  de  suite  the  dry  land.  The  front  of  the  church,  about 
the  door,  is  quite  rich  in  carved  stone  ;  a  huge  figure  over  the  door  re 
presents  the  Almighty,  as  Ezekiel  dreamed  of  Him,  looking  like  the 
Devil.  Even  the  Scotchman  said,  "  It  is  blasphemy."  There  is  a  pro 
fusion  of  carving — lions,  toads,  devils,  and  angels,  not  to  mention  men. 
It  betokens  the  exuberance  of  childhood,  and  belongs  to  the  time  when 
the  church  was  built. 

FROM  ARLES  TO  MARSEILLES. — Soon  after  leaving  Salon,  we  came 
upon  the  most  beautiful  sight  we  have  yet  seen  in  France.  The  sea 
was  far  off  in  the  distance,  but  before  it,  and  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  were  plantations  of  olive  and  almond  trees.  The  almonds  look 
like  large  old  peach  trees.  The  air  was  soft,  and  the  sun  looked  out 
upon  the  lovely  scene  as  if  to  bless  the  whole.  On  one  side  of  the 
road  was  a  rock,  extending  for  miles,  with  only  here  and  there  a  trace 
of  vegetation ;  on  the  other,  this  garden  of  perpetual  verdure. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  205 

GENOA. — I  have  seen  some  handsome  women  here.  In  general,  there 
is  something  quite  pleasing  in  their  appearance.  I  like  their  covering 
for  the  head — a  sort  of  scarf,  sometimes  of  white  muslin,  elaborately 
worked ;  but  oftener  of  gay  calico — white  ground  and  violet  figures. 
They  hold  the  ends  of  this — the  hands  often  crossed  on  the  breast — in 
a  very  graceful  manner.  To-day,  as  I  went  early  into  the  Chiesa  San 
Matteo,  I  saw  a  most  beautiful  woman  kneeling  in  the  church  ;  her  face 
was  much  like  some  of  the  Magdalens.  She  might  have  sat  for  one.  She 
is  the  handsomest  creature  I  have  seen  in  Europe. 

PISA — DUOMO. — But  it  is  painful  to  see  such  a  building  surrounded 
by  a  fringe  of  beggars.  At  Genoa — yes,  and  at  London — we  see  the 
same  thing.  The  first  time  I  heard  the  Italian  language  spoken,  it  was 
by  blackguards  and  beggars.  Here,  at  Pisa,  the  one  are  more  obtru 
sive—the  others  more  tenacious.  As  I  stepped  into  the  street,  I  know 
not  how  many  offered  their  services — or  their  caps  ;  one  begged  for  a 
crazia — one  said,  "  Vuolate  un  cicerone, por  videre  il Duomo,  Campanile" 
&c.  (You  can't  look  at  a  building,  but  out  comes  a  knave  to  show  it.) 

The  Duomo  and  its  neighbours  seem  not  to  belong  to  Pisa.  Not  only 
do  they  stand  apart  from  the  town,  but  they  have  a  foreign  aspect,  and 
seem,  indeed,  to  have  no  affinity  with  the  rest  of  it.  However,  the 
Campanile  has  one  descendant — illegitimate,  but  not  natural :  another 
tower,  which  resembles  the  great  one  only  in  its  leaning.  This  is  like 
all  imitators ;  they  get  the  prophet's  halting  step,  not  his  inspiration. 

DUOMO. — The  effect  of  the  whole  building  is  wonderful.  The  enor 
mous  columns,  their  great  number,  the  lofty  arches,  the  prodigious 
dome,  the  altars,  the  varied  marbles,  the  curious  mosaic  beneath  the 
dome,  rich  with  its  many  hues — all  fill  one  with  wonder,  though  not 
with  the  same  reverence  that  steals  over  you  at  Notre  Dame  or  West 
minster  Abbey. 

I  am  surprised  at  the  fewness  and  smallness  of  the  windows ;  but  the 
brightness  of  the  Italian  sky  compensates  for  this.  The  stained  glass 
is  very  rich.  The  effect  of  the  enormous  cross,  with  John  and  Mary,  in 
the  roof,  just  over  the  choir,  is  marvellous — a  mosaic,  with  a  gold 
ground.  I  think  there  are  twelve  altars  in  the  nave  and  transepts — all 
beautiful,  all  different,  and  all  harmonious.  The  black  and  white  mar 
bles  alternating  produce  a  curious  effect. 

The  best  painting,  I  think,  is  a  Madonna  by  Allori. 

In  Florence,  he  went  into  the  convent  attached  to  the  chapel 
of  St.  Antonin,  called  sometimes  Del  Salviata,  "  and  saw  the 
cell  in  which  Savonarola  used  to  live.  It  is  like  all  the  rest, 
small — ten  feet  square,  perhaps,  and  ten  feet  high.  There  is  a 
fresco  of  Beato  Angelico,  representing  the  coronation  of  the 
Virgin.  Here  lived  that  dauntless  soul  who  feared  nothing  but 
wrong  and  fear  ;  a  soul  of  fire  was  in  him/' 

He  takes  at  once  the  thought  of  Michael  Angelo : — 

But  the  Day  and  Night,  oh,  how  they  strike  your  soul !  The  day  is 
dawning — a  man  huge  and  brawny,  full  of  lusty  life.  He  is  just 
awakening,  "  as  a  bridegroom  coming  out  of  his  chamber,  and  rejoicing 
as  a  strong  man  to  run  his  race/'  Here  you  do  not  find  ideal  beauty — • 


206  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

you  never  meet  it  in  Michael  Angelo,  but  boldness  of  thought, 
and  wantonness  of  unconscious  strength.  He  is  the  Middle  Age  all  over, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  yet  he  has  the  profound  wisdom  that  comes  of  long 
studying  the  best  models,  the  profounder  wisdom  which  comes  of  that 
inspiration  "  which  rounded  Peter's  dome."  I  never  see  one  of  his 
works,  from  the  Young  Apollo  unfinished  in  the  gallery,  to  the  Fates 
at  the  Pitti  Palace,  without  feeling  his  awful  depth  and  strength.  His 
Aurora  is  fresh,  strong,  and  full  of  rhythm — you  feel  this  in  all  his 
works  with  the  chisel;  I  can't  think  his  Day  was  quite  finished,  but 
Night  bends  her  head  in  slumber,  and  seems,  like  the  Night  of  the  old 
mythology,  to  be  the  mother  of  all  things,  who,  of  her  own  consent 
yields  to  Fate  and  resigns  the  field  to  Day.  I  do  not  see  the  connection 
these  figures  have  with  a  tomb  or  a  chapel,  but  I  feel  their  force. 

SANTA  CEOCE. — This  is  the  great  burial-place  of  the  illustrious  de 
parted  of  Florence ;  here  sleep  in  peace  the  men  that  were  persecuted 
when  living,  and  driven  from  their  native  laud. 

He  copies  the  epitaphs,  and  in  some  cases  the  shapes  of  the 
monuments. 

The  first  time  I  visited  this  beautiful  church  it  was  a  very  sad  day, 
and  not  knowing  what  to  do,  I  turned  into  the  home  of  the  departed. 
"While  I  copied  the  inscriptions  the  priests  chanted  their  service,  and 
ever  and  anon  the  organ  poured  out  such  music  as  might  have  fallen 
from  the  sky ;  it  was  sad,  sweet,  and  soothing  to  the  soul. 

It  is  a  little  curious  that  Galileo  should  be  buried  in  this  church 
and  have  such  a  monument  here,  for  the  tribunal  that  persecuted  him 
had  its  residence  in  this  very  cloister.  So  the  world  goes.  The  con 
ventuals  of  St.  Francis,  to  whom  Urban  IY.  entrusted  the  inquisitorial 
power  in  Tuscany,  meet  in  the  cloister  of  Santa  Croce.  Now  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Tuscany  is  curious  to  preserve  every  relic  of  Galileo,  even 
his  finger,  kept  in  the  Laurentian  Library. 

FLOBENCE. — I  have  now  visited  most  of  the  wonders  of  this 
charming  place.  Let  me  say  that  the  great  paintings  of  Raphael — 
the  Madonna  Delia  Seggiola,  the  Julius  II.,  the  Leo  X.,  the  Fornarina, 
affect  me  more  than  I  had  ever  dreamed  of.  The  first  time  I  went  to  the 
Pitti  Palace,  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  to  see ;  all  at  once  my  eye  fell 
on  the  Madonna.  What  a  painting !  God  in  heaven,  what  a  painting ! 
What  a  genius !  I  must  say  the  same  of  the  great  work  of  Titian — the 
Magdalen,  and  both  the  Yenuses ;  but  the  Laocoon,  the  Yenus  de 
Medici,  and  the  Apollo  did  not  fill  my  mind  as  I  had  expected.  The 
statues  in  general  have  fallen  a  little  below  my  imagination,  the 
paintings  (I  mean  the  great  ones  which  I  knew  well  by  engravings 
before)  have  risen  above  it  far ;  so  have  the  public  buildings. 

I  have  visited  one  or  other  of  the  galleries  almost  daily,  and  devoted 
almost  all  my  time  to  the  study  of  art.  I  have,  however,  lost  a  good 
deal  of  time  by  illness.  I  have  had  a  bad  cold  ever  since  I  left  Paris  ; 
it  became  at  last  a  violent  pain  in  the  region  of  the  right  side  of  the 
frontal  sinus.  It  came  on  regularly  from  3  to  4  p.m.,  slight  at  first,  but 
increasing  in  violence,  till  at  last  it  was  like  the  tooth-ache,  con 
densed  agony  ;  then  it  gradually  abated  and  disappeared  about  9  or  10. 
It  lasted  me  about  ten  days. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  207 

We  have  had  a  fine  lofty  situation,  No.  1189,  Lung  d'Arno,  with  a 
beautiful  prospect  far  off  to  the  snowy  hills. 

Feb.  it — We  left  Florence  with  sorrow,  and  at  night  reached 
Livorno,  on  the  way  to  Naples. 

PUTEOLI  AND  BAIJS.  Mem.  The  girl  near  the  Cento  Camarelle,  who 
fled  a  la  mode  antique,  the  pretty  girl  whose  teeth  Mr.  Freeman 
looked  at,  and  the  beauty  to  whom  I  gave  half  a  carline,  and  who  knelt 
down  that  we  might  look  at  her  necklace. 

All  day  long  we  have  been  on  classic  ground,  and  a  fine  day  it  has 
been;  but  what  a  difference  between  the  ancient  tenants  of  this 
place  and  these  their  successors !  Here  those  old  Eomans  revelled  in 
their  Titanic  lust,  here  they  poisoned  one  another,  here  they  framed 
plans  or  conspiracies  which  affected  the  welfare  of  a  world,  and  here, 
too,  a  scholar  wrote  immortal  words,  and  a  poet  said — 

"  Exegi  monumentum  aere  perennius." 

"What  a  mutability  in  the  affairs  of  men !  Ma3cenas  is  forgotten,  or 
remembered  mainly  as  the  poet's  friend ;  Baia3,  Puteoli,  have 
perished  ;  the  monuments  of  brass  are  lost  for  ever  ;  but  the  poet  lives 
and  will  live  for  many  a  year  (See  Carm.  iii.,  Od.  xxiv.,  and  the  "  Beatus 
ille,"  which  he  never  wrote  in  the  country,  except  the  four  last  stanzas.) 

Italy  is  the  land  of  artistic  elegance  and  social  deformity.  She  has 
taught  refinement  to  all  Europe  and  kept  treachery  for  herself.  Oh, 
when  is  the  great  Phidias  to  come,  and  carve  out  of  the  expectant 
marble  the  perfect  form  of  society,  and  realise  in  fact  the  ideal  often 
dimly  seen  in  dreams  ? 

In  vintage  time,  when  you  throw  grapes  into  the  press,  by  their  ow- 
weight  they  exude  their  juice,  and  there  runs  out  a  girlish  liquor  which 
is  sweet,  frothy,  and  will  keep  two  or  three  days.  At  the  first  pressure 
there  comes  forth  a  liquor  deeper  in  colour  and  more  potent  in 
character,  which  will  last  half  the  season,  and  it  is  fit  for  boys'  pota 
tions  and  weak  men.  But  it  is  only  the  strong  pressure  that  forces 
out  of  the  grape's  reluctant  heart  that  rich  and  generous  wine  which 
keeps  good  for  centuries,  bettering  by  age — the  invigorating  spirit 
which  fires  the  heart  of  hardiest  men.  So  is  it  with  the  works  of 
human  thought. 

At  length  he  approaches  Rome,  "the  widow  of  two  anti 
quities." 

Had  no  chance  to  taste  the  wine  of  Albano,  yet  a  "  plenus  Albani 
cadus  "  might  be  forgiven.  I  had  Horace  in  my  hand  all  the  way, 
and  read,  not  without  new  pleasure,  the  Satire  II.  viii.  13. 

Then  we  came  in  sight  of  Rome.  Oh,  what  thoughts  it  awoke  in 
my  heart  when  first  I  saw  its  domes,  and  rode  down  the  Via  Appia  ! 

ROME. — There  is  no  city,  except  Athens  and  Jerusalem,  so  full  of 
recollections  to  me  as  Rome.  Twice  it  has  been  the  capital  of  the 
world — once,  of  the  Pagan,  by  physical  violence  ;  once,  of  the  Chris 
tian,  by  spiritual  violence.  She  has  made  a  desert  about  her  twice. 
The  memorials  of  the  arts,  however,  came  from  the  times  of  the 
Emperors,  scarce  any  from  that  of  the  republic. 

Then  they  only  produced  great  men.     Compare  the  two  eras  in  this 


208  IJFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

respect.     What  great  Romans  came  up  after  the  empire  was  fixed  in 
Augustus  ?     How  many  before. 

Wherever  the  English  go  they  carry  with  them  their  pride,  their 
prejudice,  their  port,  their  porter,  and  their  pickles.  Here  they  have 
their  national  amusements — fox-hunting  and  horse-racing.  When  the 
Americans  also  become  numerous,  I  suppose  we  shall  have  our  national 
amusements — elections  and  banking. 

I  love  to  walk  about  the  streets,  or  sit  in  the  Forum,  and  think  of 
the  armies  that  marched  out  of  this  little  city — the  influences  that 
went  forth  to  conquer  the  world.  What  traces  of  these  stern  giants 
are  written  all  over  the  earth.  One  might,  in  travelling  in  the  land  of 
giants,  come  all  at  once  on  the  footprints  of  one  in  the  sand  ten  feet 
long — and  from  that  judge  of  the  race.  So  it  is  with  the  Romans,  but 
you  meet  their  footsteps  everywhere.  Yet  they  invented  nothing,  not 
even  the  arch.  They  borrowed  their  literature,  their  art,  their  religion, 
but  their  arms  they  made.  But,  alas,  what  a  contrast,  as  one  sits  in 
the  Forum,  and  looks  on  the  crowd  of  beggars  and  of  blackguards. 
Oh,  city  of  crime  from  the  days  of  Romulus  till  these  days  !  Thou 
that  stonest  the  prophets!  The  blood  of  martyrs  is  upon  thee  from 
thy  earliest  to  thy  latest  days. 

We  went  to  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore,  which  is  exceedingly  rich,  but  not 
imposing.  It  is  not  a  religious  architecture.  It  seems  to  me  the 
modern  Unitarians  would  like  this  style ;  it  is  clear,  actual,  and  the 
work  of  logical  and  demonstrative  heads,  wholly  free  from  mysticism. 
It  has  a  continuous  architrave  over  the  pillars,  which  I  think  is  uni 
versal  in  Christian  churches. 

Mem.  The  fragments  of  Christ's  cradle  that  are  preserved  here.  In 
St.  John  of  Lateran  is  the  table  on  which  the  Twelve  took  the  Last 
Supper — the  heads  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  Peter — the  actual  Well  of 
Samaria,  between  two  pillars  from  Pilate's  house  at  Jerusalem — the 
stone  on  which  the  soldiers  casts  lots  for  Christ's  vesture — the  pillars 
between  which  Pilate  stood  when  he  told  the  people  to  take  Christ 
and  crucify  him — the  column  that  split  asunder  at  his  Crucifixion 
(very  neatly  done) — and  four  columns  supporting  a  slab  which  shows 
the  exact  height  of  Jesus — -just  six  feet! 

Here  too  I  saw  a  hole  in  an  altar — through  the  marble  slab — made 
in  this  way ;  a  priest  did  not  believe  in  Transubstantiation,  so,  one  day 
when  he  was  celebrating  mass,  the  wafer  whipped  through  the  slab  of 
marble,  and  left  a  great  spot  of  blood  on  the  column  beneath  which 
supported  it.  The  red  spot  is  still  faintly  visible.  The  hole  is  an  inch 
and  a  half  in  diameter ! 

Really,  I  think  I  shall  turn  Catholic,  and  be  baptised  on  Easter-day 
in  the  baptistery  of  Constantine,  where  Rienzi  bathed,  and  where  all 
converted  Jews  and  infidels  are  baptized. 

ST.  CLEMENT. — This  is  to  me  one  of  the  most  interesting  churches 
of  Rome.  It  is  in  the  early  style  of  churches,  with  three  naves, 
a  separate  place  for  the  presbytery,  two  pulpits,  one  for  the  gospel, 
one  for  the  epistle.  Here  too  is  the  seat  for  the  Episcopus.  All  this 
was  constructed  by  John  VIII.  Here,  says  tradition,  are  the  remains 
of  Clemens  and  Ignatius  under  the  altar  in  the  presbytery.  I  did  not 
leant  to  doubt  it ;  but  what  thoughts  it  brings  up  to  stand  over  the 
bodies  of  Clemens  Rom.,  and  Ignatius  of  Antioch !  Here,  they  say, 


THEODORE    PARKER.  209 

was  Clement's  house — here  lived  the  "true  yoke-fellow"  of  Paul' 
How  it  brings  home  the  words  of  the  New  Testament  to  visit  these 
places. 

After  strolling  about  all  day,  to  the  Baths  of  Caracalla,  the 
Pyramid  of  Cestius,  the  Columbarium  of  the  Freedman  of 
Augustus,  &e., 

We  went  to  the  prison — the  Mamertine  Prison,  where  Jugurtha 
died,  and  the  conspirators  that  were  with  Catiline.  Yes,  here  was 
Paul  a  prisoner !  The  custode  shows  a  spring  that  spouted  up  for  St. 
Peter  (who  was  here  nine  months  with  Paul),  in  which  he  baptized 
forty-nine  soldiers,  all  of  whom  became  martyrs.  There  is  a  stone 
which  records  the  same  event.  I  drank  some  of  the  wate>.  But  all 
nonsense  apart,  it  is  something  to  sit  do^ni  in  the  dungeon  where 
Paul  was  a  prisoner ! 

AECH  or  TITUS.— It  wakens  deep  thoughts  to  see  the  sevenfold 
candlestick  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  on  the  arch  of  a  Roman 
Emperor.  Amongst  other  things  I  really  thought  of  Dr.  Palfrey's 
Academical  Lectures,  with  their  sevenfold  golden  candlestick.  One 
Pope  took  great  pains  to  preserve  and  restore  this  "  monumentum 
insigm  religionis  et  artis"  I  don't  see  how  it  is  a  monument  of  reli 
gion  ;  but,  as  the  Pope  says  so,  it  must  be  true. 

But  I  fancy  the  Romans  who  took  Jerusalem  differed  a  little  from 
the  wretches  we  saw  at  work  to-day  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
arch.  It  is  a  curious  spectacle  to  see  the  Romans  work !  How 
ever,  they  begin  early,  for  they  rise  as  the  old  Romans  did. 

Sunday,  25th  February. — I*  was  ill  all  night  with  a  headache  and 
feverishness,  and  all  day  in  a  slighter  degree.  Indeed,  my  old  evils 
return  upon  my  head.  However,  in  the  afternoon  we  went  to  the 
Villa  Borghese,  a  few  steps  from  the  gate.  It  was  delightful  to  hear 
the  wild-birds  sing,  and  gather  the  wild  violet,  so  modest  and  fragrant, 
in  a  spot  where  .the  water  trickles  all  day  long.  I  found,  too,  soine 
forget-me-nots  of  a  species  that  I  never  saw  before. 

AT  THE  CAPITOL.— A  bas-relief  on  a  sarcophagus  attracted  me  much, 
but  more  from  the  singularity  of  the  conception  than  the  beauty  of  the 
work.  The  story  is  the  Creation  of  Man  by  Prometheus,  Man's  Fate 
and  Death.  On  the  left  of  the  spectator  are  the  four  elements  out 
of  which  man  is  made :  1.  Fire,  typified  by  Vulcan  with  fire  beside 
him.  He  and  a  servant  are  at  work  hammering  iron  on  an  anvil.  2. 
Water,  typified  by  Oceanus  with  an  oar,  &c.  3.  Air,  by  ^Eolus  blowing 
a  trumpet.  4.  Earth,  by  a  woman  with  cornucopia  and  other  emblems 
of  abundance. 

Cupid  and  Psyche  embracing,  denote  the  union  of  soul  and  body. 
Aurora,  the  newness  of  the  world's  life.  In  the  centre  sits  Prome 
theus,  with  a  clayey-looking,  lumpy  fellow  he  has  just  made,  on  a  block 
before  him,  and  another  in  his  hand.  Minerva  puts  a  butterfly  on 
the  head  of  this  latter,  to  denote  the  soul's  entry  into  the  body.  The 
three  fell  sisters  are  there — one  writes  his  destiny  on  a  globe — one 
looks  hard  at  him  and  spins  her  thread — another  folds  her  arms  in  her 
robe  and  regards  him.  Then  you  see  him  lying  on  the  ground — dead ; 
a  Love  stands  over  him — I  know  not  for  what  purpose.  The  Dawn  is 
flying  away  in  a  chariot,  to  denote  the  separation  of  soul  and  body, 
15 


210  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

and  Mercury  waits  to  conduct  the  soul  to  its  own  place.  Apuleius* 
would  have  been  delighted  with  it,  and  Henry  More,  I  fancy,  would 
have  written  another  i/^xa-ywyia  if  he  had  seen  it — to  be  read  as  often 
as  the  first. 

Mem.  The  busts  of  the  Emperors  and  of  the  illustrious  men.  It 
makes  one  feel  humble  to  stand  in  the  presence  of  such  marbles  as 
are  collected  in  the  Hall  of  Illustrious  Men.  If  one  were  arrogant,  I 
would  put  him  there  to  become  humble.  Yet  the  Romans  had  a  very 
coarse  and  materialistic  organization.  I  never  find  in  them  (excepting 
Virgil)  that  keen  sensitiveness  to  the  beautiful,  which  belongs  to  noble 
men.  Their  faces  in  general  have  very  little  that  is  spiritual,  little 
that  is  elevated. 

Sunday,  March  3. — "We  were  presented  to  the  Pope,  with  some 
other  Americans.  He  stood,  in  the  simple  dress  of  a  monk,  with  his 
back  against  a  sort  of  table,  and  talked  with  Mr.  Greene,  who  had 
introduced  us.  He  blessed  some  rosaries  which  the  Americans  had 
brought.  We  stayed  about  twenty  minutes.  He  has  a  benevolent 
face  and  looked  kindly  upon  us.  Talked  about  the  state  of  Rome — 
about  the  English  language  in  America — about  the  famous  polyglott 
Cardinal  at  the  Propaganda — made  a  sign,  and  we  withdrew. 

CATACOMBS. — I  know  no  place  that  fills  one  with  deeper  emotions 
in  Rome  than  the  catacombs.  Here  the  persecuted  when  alive  found 
refuge — when  dead  found  repose  for  their  ashes  and  bones  long  tortured. 
Here  the  relatives  of  a  martyr  laid  down  his  lacerated  body — and  in 
the  ampullce  deposited  the  blood  they  had  piously  collected  with  sponges. 
Well :  the  master  died  the  martyr's  death — the  servants  need  not  fear 
to  do  the  same! 

I  am  confirmed  in  my  opinion  that,  long  before  Constantine,  the 
Church  had  departed  from  the  ideal  simplicity  of  the  primitive  state, 
so  often  contended  for  by  Protestants.  Indeed,  I  am  now  more  than 
ever  persuaded  that  as  Christ  gave  no  form,  the  first  one  used  by  the 
apostolic  churches  was  much  less  simple  than  we  fancy.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  impression  left  on  my  mind  by  this  visit.  I  should  like  to 
come  and  sit  here  all  night  and  read  the  Fathers,  Origen's  cohortation 
to  his  young  converts,  urging  them  to  be  martyrs, — or  something  of 
Cyprian  or  Tertullian,  or  the  lives  of  the  martyrs  themselves.  No 
wonder  the  Catholic  Church  has  such  a  hold  on  the  hearts  of  the 
world,  while  she  keeps  in  her  bosom  the  relics  of  the  sainted  dead ! 
Yet,  as  I  walked  about  here,  I  could  not  but  think  how  easy  it  must 
have  seemed,  and  have  been,  too,  to  bear  the  cross  of  martyrdom,— the 
recollection  of  Christ,  of  the  apostles,  the  certainty  of  the  prayers  and 
best  wishes  of  men  of  earth,  the  expectations  of  heavenly  satisfaction — 
all  would  conspire  to  sustain  the  spirit,  and  make  the  man  court  and 
not  shun  the  martyr's  death. 

ST.  PAUL  IN  THE  COESO. — Perhaps  Paul  actually  lived  here  and 
died  here !  It  is  something  to  stand  on  the  spot  where  Paul  once 
stood.  I  should  like  to  sit  here  and  read  his  Epistles.  Oh,  the  soul- 
stirring  man !  It  is  easy  to  build  churches  to  his  memory. 

*  This  sarcophagus  belongs  to  the  time  of  Apuleius,  who  was  born  in  the  early  part 
of  the  second  century.  It  shows  the  passage  by  Neo-Platonism  into  Christianity ;  and 
Apuleius  himself  has  a  touch  of  the  same  in  his  beautiful  story  of  "  Cupid  and  Psyche," 
which  belonged  not  to  him,  but  came  down  to  him,  gradually  improving,  from  older  times, 
and  only  owes  its  Neo-Platonic  form  to  him. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  211 

Saw  Father  Glover,  of  course  a  Jesuit,  in  his  room  at  the  Eoman 
College, «.  e.  the  College  of  the  Jesuits.  He  is  a  good-looking,  bene 
volent  old  gentleman  of  sixty  to  seventy,  with  a  frank  English  way  with 
him.  He  is  an  Englishman.  St.  Ives  introduced  me.  It  was  in  his 
room,  with  a  brick  floor,  a  bed,  a  rough  writing-table,  a  few  books,  a 
single  window,  no  fire-place — a  cheap  place,  a  divinity  student  would 
sicken  at  the  thought  of  such  a  place  at  Cambridge.  Yet  he  is  a  man 
famous  for  his  talents  and  learning,  and  more  and  better  than  famous 
for  his  charity  and  practical  Christianity. 

I  asked  him  about  "some  doctrines  of  the  Catholic  Church,  but  he 
would  have  a  controversy ;  so  he  had  it  for  a  moment  or  so,  but  it 
was  all  on  his  side,  He  thought  there  could  be  no  religion  without 
believing  all  that  ^God  taught.  Of  course  I  assented.  God  taught 
the  Divinity  of  Ch'rist ;  that  I  did  not  see  proved — so  he  attacked  me 
for  denying  that  Divinity,  and  talked  as  men  usually  do  on  that  point. 
However,  he  desisted  at  length.  Then  I  asked  him, — 

1.  About  Inspiration,  or  the  Catholic  doctrine  thereof.     Inspiration 
was  the  Spirit  of  God  acting  on  the  soul  of  man,  and  preserving  it 
from  all  error  in  regard  to  the  matter  in  hand.     It  does  not  direct  the 
words,  but  superintends  the  thought,  or  substance  of  what  is  to  be 
written,  so  that  no  error  intervenes.    No  error  is  in  the  New  Testament 
when  truly  expounded.     The  Holy  Scriptures  do  not  require  merely 
an  inspired  expounder,  but   an    infallible   expounder — there  is  but 
one  such,   i.   e.   the    Catholic    Church.      He    does    not   know  that 
anybody   has   been   inspired    since    the  days    of   the  Apostles  ;  may 
be"  so,  and  may  be  not.     Aid  is  always  given  by  G-od  in  proportion 
to  the  necessity.      Some   of  the   saints   have  been  inspired  always. 
(l)r.  Grant  said,  when  the  Catholic  Church  canonized  a  man,  it  pro 
nounced  his  works  to  be  truth  with  no  error  by  this  act.     Still,  I  think 
there  must  be  limitations  to  that  statement.)     Father  Glover  said  the 
Old  Testament  was  inspired ;  but  it  was  only  a  figure  of  the  New 
Testament,  that  is,  in  the  main.     The  Apocalypse  was  as  true  and 
authentic  as  the  other  parts  of  the  Old  Testament.     The  Church  told 
him  so.     (Here  I  think  he  was  a  little  mistaken.     See  Jahn,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  Miihler.)     The  Apocryphal  Gospels  might  be  inspired, 
but  he  did  not  know  it,  for  the  Church  had  not  declared  concerning 
them  yea  or  nay.     (Here  I  think  him  mistaken  a  little.)     The  Apo 
cryphal  Epistle  of  Paul  was  quite  like  Paul's  writings — its  doctrines 
true,  but  whether  inspired  or  not  he  could  not  say. 

2.  Of  Miracles.     The  Catholic  Church  works  them  certainly  when 
there  is  need.     Now  there  is  not  the  same  occasion  for  this  work  as  in 
the  time  of  Christ,  for  then  Christianity  was  preached  to  the  heathens. 
Now  when  this  is  done,  miracles  always  follow,  e.  g.  Xavier  raised  three 
or  four  dead  to  life  in  the  East.     Miracles,  were  wrought  continually 
by   saints,   &c.,   &c.      The   liquefaction   of   St.    Januarius'   blood   at 
Naples  on  the  1st  of  May  is  a  real  miracle  continually  performed. 
He  mentioned  the  miraculous  cure  of  a  young  lady  in  consumption 
on  Conception-day ;  she  lay  in  a  dying  state.     All  at  once  she  said 
the  blessed  Virgin  had  appeared,  and  told  her  that  she  should  not  die 
that  day,  but  recover!     So  she  rose  and  walked  about,  well  as  ever! 
He  cited  the  cure  effected  by  Prince  Hohenlohe  of  a  lady  in  Wash- 


212  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

ington,  U.S.A.  He  had  the  printed  documents  before  him.  (I 
knew  the  case  before.)  He  mentioned  a  miraculous  conversion — a  Jew, 
Eatisbonne  by  name.  One  night  he  knew  nothing  of  Christianity ; 
at  12,  raved  and  blasphemed  -both  God  and  his  Church.  At  12|  he 
was  converted  and  found  to  understand  Christianity  so  well  that  he 
needed  scarcely  any  instruction  !  This  conversion  was  quite  as  mira 
culous  as  St.  Paul's.  Now  God  only  wrought  these  miracles  to  attest 
the  truth,  t.  e.  the  truth  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Catholic  Church. 

Went  afterwards  to  see  Bishop  Baggs.  Had  a  long  interview  with 
him.  He  is  Very  courteous,  and  as  free  from  all  cant  as  one  can  be 
conceived  to  be.  Indeed,  I  have  not  seen  a  Catholic  who  spoke  through 
his  nose,  or  had  a  hypocritical  whine  I  never  saw  one  roll  up  the 
whites  of  his  eyes.  This,  though  but  negative,  is  no  small  merit. 

1.  He  said — for  I  turned   the   conversation   that  way  —  that   the 
Catholic  Church  was  making  great  exertions  in  all  directions  in  the 
way  of  missionary  enterprise,  and  with  great  success.   Proof,  or,  rather, 
sign  of  it — the  young  men  of  all  nations  in  the  Propaganda. 

2.  He  said  the  Catholic  Church  had  never  determined  whether  the 
infallibility  rested  in  the  Pope,  or  in  the  General  Councils,  as  the  matter 
of  faith.  In  other  words,  whether  the  declarations  of  the  Pope,  touching 
matters  of  faith,  were  infallible  before  they  received  the  assent  of  a 
Council,  or  a  Church  in  general,  and  independent  of  that  assent  or  not. 
Some  thought  one  way,  some  another ;  but  a  man  was  not  a  heretic  for 
thinking  either  way.     1  mentioned  the  opinion  of  Baron  von  Wessen- 
berg,*  which  he  did  not  concur  in,  but  said,  still,  that  others  shared 
the  opinion,  though  to  him  the  case  was  quite  clear :  (1.)  It  was  not 
a  practical  question,  or  the  Catholic  Church  would  have  decided  it ;  for 
during  the  1,800  years  of  the  Catholic  Church's  existence,  no  one  bull 
of  the  Pope  touching  any  matter  of  faith  had  been  without  the  assent 
(open  or  tacit,  I  suppose,)  being  granted.     Therefore  the  question  is 
merely  speculative.     (2.)  He  thinks  that  the  Pope  in  other  matters,  of 
his  private  opinion,  may  err,  as  any  other  doctor ;  yet,  in  matters  of 
faith,  God  will  infallibly  preserve  him  from  mistake.     The  Gallican 
clergy  were  once  hostile  to  the  Pope's  infallibility,  but  are  now  coming 
round  to  the  Roman  side  of  the  question.      The  question  does  not 
concern  Philosophy,  which  the  Catholic  Church  leaves  untouched,  as 
far  as  possible. 

3.  He  said  that  Galileo  was  not  brought  into  trouble  on  account  of 
maintaining  that  the  earth  went  round  the  sun,  but  because  he  taught 
that  such  was  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  in  this  point 
conflicted  with  the  doctrines  already  proved  by  the  Church  to  be  true. 
(Doubt  all  this,  very  much.)     In  matters  of  philosophy,  the  Church 
did  not  meddle,  except  they  come  directly  in  contravention  of  the 
doctrines  of  the  Church. 

4.  He  said,  too,  that  the  Church  taught  that  out  of  the  Catholic 
Church  was  no  salvation.     Here  he  went  into  a  quite  able  and  very 
clear  statement  of  the    scriptural  argument  for  the  power  of  the 
Catholic  Church  to  bind  and  loose,  enjoin  duties,  and  give  absolution 
for  sin.     That  what  the  Catholic  Church  bound  on  earth  should  be 
bound  in  heaven.     Still  more ;  Christ  made  a  distinction — some  men 

*  Geschichte  der  grossen  Kirchenversarnmlungen,     Baud  I. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  213 

to  be  teachers,  some  not  teachers ;  "  Go  preach  the  G-ospel,"  &c. ; 
"they  that  believe  and  are  baptised  shall  be  saved;"  "he  that  be- 
lieveth  not,"  &c.  Here  belief  in  what  they  (the  teachers)  are  com 
manded  to  preach  (that  is,  of  course,  the  doctrines  of  the  Church), 
and  the  reception  of  baptism  (the  rite  and  sacrament  of  the  Church), 
are  made  essential  to  salvation.  Strictly  speaking,  therefore,  such  as 
do  not  come  under  this  rubric  are  to  be  damned  by  the  very  letter  of 
Scripture.  But  this  letter  of  Scripture  is  to  be  explained  by  reference 
to  the  attributes  of  God,  e.g.,  justice.  Therefore,  we  are  not  to  sup 
pose  that  G-od  will  damn  any  one,  except  for  what  is  his  own  fault. 
If  he  is  out  of  the  Church,  not  by  his  own  fault,  he  is  not  to  be 
damned  for  that.  Nevertheless,  a  man  may  deceive  himself,  thinking 
he  is  not  to  blame  for  his  unbelief,  while  he  really  is.  Still,  in  special 
cases,  it  is  not  for  man  to  say  who  is  wilfully  out  of  the  Church,  and 
therefore  to  be  damned.  God  only  can  search  the  hearts  of  men  and 
decide  this. 

He  said,  very  truly,  that  the  Protestants  abused  the  Catholics ;  that 
very  few  persons  knew  what  were  their  real  doctrines — they  would  not 
inquire :  all  of  it  is  very  true.  Yet,  for  myself,  I  have  endeavoured 
always  to  learn  their  doctrine  from  their  own  writers,  and  have  never 
wilfully  erred  in  regard  to  them. 

He  is  in  time  for  the  Carnival : — 

Notice  the  beggars  in  the  midst  of  this  festivity,  and  their  hideous 
deformity.  They  are  sad  enough  objects  at  all  times — on  a  festal  day 
what  shall  we  think  of  them  ?  Men  throw  flour  at  each  other,  and 
the  rich  spoil  the  coats  of  the  rich  with  what  would  have  gladdened 
the  heart  of  the  beggars !  "  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should 
do  to  you—."  Ah,  this  is  the  city  where  Paul  was  crucified.  God 
bless  men! — they  can't  crucify  Christianity. 

We  went  to  St.  Peter's,  and  heard  the  sweet  music  at  vespers,  and 
smelt  the  incense.  The  music  is  really  very  fine — the  perfection  of 
music ;  it  would  stir  the  heart  of  a  statue  to  hear  it.  The  children 
were  gathered  together  (*.  e.  a  few  children)  to  be  instructed.  Half  a 
loaf  is  better  than  no  bread,  and  I  make  no  doubt  the  essentials  of 
Christianity  are  inculcated. 

VENICE. — I  see  the  secret  of  the  Venetian  colouring  here  in  the 
actual  sky,  ocean,  houses,  and  men  and  women.  I  rose  each  morning 
an  hour  or  more  before  the  sun,  and  watched  that  beautiful  purple 
spread  itself  out  in  all  directions  from  the  point  where  the  sun  would 
rise,  and  then  disappear  in  the  dimmer  light  of  day.  The  solemn 
stillness  of  the  horseless  city  was  broken  only  by  the  fishermen  going 
out  to  sea,  their  white  sails  against  the  purple.  The  numerous  bells 
only  announce  the  general  silence. 

Venice  is  a  dream  of  the  sea.  Occidental  science  and  Oriental 
fantasy  seem  to  have  united  to  produce  it.  A  Pagan  Greek  might 
say  that  Neptune,  drunk  with  nectar  and  Amphitrite,  slept  in  the  caves 
of  the  sea,  and  dreamed  as  he  slept.  Venice  is  the  petrification  of 
his  dream.  The  sun  colours  curiously  the  walls  of  the  palaces  and 
churches.  It  seems  as  if  their  wealth  had  run  over  and  stained 
the  walls. 


214  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

VIENNA. — The  Strauss  music  is  rich,  rhythmic,  and  graceful.  It 
reminds  me  continually  of  Paul  Veronese's  pictures,  examples  of  a 
joyous  festivity  of  well-bredness.  There  is  the  same  colouring  in 
both.  But  there  is  music  that  affects  me  like  Michael  Angelo's  works, 
with  its  grandeur  and  terrific  strength ;  a  great  thought  strongly  carved 
out  in  the  air,  as  his  in  stone. 

PRAGUE. — After  many  inquiries  for  the  Judenstadt  (Jews'  quarter), 
which  I  yisit  in  all  the  towns,  an  old  woman  offered  to  be  my  guide  de 
place ;  but  she  spoke  a  dialect  so  corrupt,,  that  I  could  not  understand 
one  word  in  ten.  However,  she  led  me  to  the  place.  The  Jews  are 
as  busy  as  those  in  Rome — eight  or  nine  thousand  of  them  in  all. 
Some  of  them  are  rich.  They  do  business  in  all  parts  of  the  city,  but 
lodge  here. '  There  are  no  gates  to  shut  them  in,  no  soldier  to  watch 
them.  Alas !  for  them — they  that  once  dwelt  in  the  fat  of  the  land  of 
Egypt,  and  went  out  to  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey !  Well, 
they  are  better  off  here  than  anywhere  else  in  Europe. 

The  old  woman  put  me  in  the  hands  of  a  lad  of  nineteen,  perhaps, 
who  conducted  me  to  the  Alte  Friedhof  (Old  Cemetery),  a  small  en 
closure  of  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  acre,  surrounded  with  old 
houses  and  old  walls,  full  of  dead  men's  graves.  Stone  touched  stone. 
There  were  long  inscriptions  in  Hebrew:  the  earth  was  full  of  Is- 
raelitish  bones.  Old  trees,  elders,  grew  there  to  an  enormous  size. 
They  were  the  patriarchs  of  the  place.  Some  of  them  were  a  foot 
thick.  The  guide  said  they  were  more  than  600  years  old,  and  I  can 
bejieve  it.  Here  are  the  graves  of  famous  Rabbis,  of  good  Levites  ; 
of  nobles,  also,  for  in  this  land  the  Jews  sit  down  with  princes.  I 
never  saw  a  Jewish  grave-yard  before,  and  this  spot  made  me  feel  as 
never  before.  I  have  an  inborn  affection  for  this  mysterious  people, 
for  ages  oppressed,  yet  green  and  living  still.  I  thought  of  the  service 
they  had  done  mankind — and  the  reward  they  got !  Abraham,  Isaac, 
and  Jacob,  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  came  up  to  my  mind,  and  He  who 
was  the  culmination  of  Hebrewdom,  the  blossom  of  the  nation.  I  shall 
never  forget  my  feelings  as  I  also  laid  a  stone  piously  on  the  tomb  of 
a  Patriarch  who  died  1000  years  ago,  and  plucked  an  elder  leaf  from 
the  tree  that  rooted  among  his  mouldered  ashes. 

The  boy  showed  me  a  tombstone  1200  years  old — so  he  said;  it 
looked  amazingly  fresh.  I  saw  the  humble  shed,  with  it?  elliptical 
block,  on  which,  in  a  rude  coffin,  all  the  sons  of  Jacob  wno  die  in 
Prague  are  placed — rich  and  poor,  the  Rabbis  full  of  honoured  years, 
and  the  virgin  daughters  of  Israel~ before  they  are  gathered  to  their 
fathers.  They  bury  here  no  more ;  but  they  scorn  to  mingle  their  dust 
with  that  of  Christians.  No  spot  this  side  of  Rome  or  Venice  has 
interested  me  so  much  as  this. 

"Went*  to  the'  famous  bridge  over  the  Moldau,  from  which  John  of 
Nepomuck  was  thrown.  Saw  the  cross,  in  brass,  on  the  parapet  of 
the  bridge,  to  mark  the  spot  where  he  was  thrown  over,  and  to  com 
memorate  the  miraculous  flames  that  issued  from  his  body,  after  his 
death,  while  it  lay  in  the  water.  Numerous  statues  of  John,  in  various 
attitudes  and  actions,  are  on  the  sides  of  the  bridge ;  here  and  there 
are  bas-reliefs,  telling  how  he  converted  eight  thousand  Jews  and 
twenty-five  thousand  infidels  to  Christianity.  Of  course,  he  was 
greater  than  Paul,  who  could  hardly  convert  one  Jew.  Here  was  a 


THEODORE   PARKER.  215 

crucifix  of  gilt  bronze,  erected  out  of  the  fines  paid  by  the  Jews  for 
blaspheming  the  Christian  religion !  It  stands  there  to  insult  them 
every  time  they  pass  the  stream  !  What  would  Jesus  say  of  them  who 
take  his  name  in  vain,  could  he  come  back. 

Went  to  the  Black  Tower  and  the  White  Tower,  from  which  there 
is  a  beautiful  view  of  Prague.  I  love  to  take  the  profile  of  a  town : 
that  of  Boston  is  exquisitely  beautiful.  But  the  Middle  Age  towns 
are  by  far  the  most  picturesque.  How  degenerate  and  prosy  our 
towns  are  getting ! 

I  went  into  a  Jewish  book-store,  and  bought  a  few  Hebrew  books  as 
memorials  of  the  place  and  the  nation ;  Hebrew  prayers  and  Hebrew 
stories — no  nation  excels  them  for  both — and  a  little  modern  Hebrew 
poetry.  The  little  old  man  was  attentive,  and  seem  pleased  that  a 
stranger  took  interest  in  Hebrew  literature.  He  had  a  fine  copy  of 
the  Talmud,  twelve  volumes,  large  paper,  for  forty  gulden ! 

In  Berlin  he  attended  many  lectures  : — 

Heard  Werder  on  Logic.  He  made  a  great  fuss  about  Bestimmtheit, 
and  was,  as  I  thought,  in  a  remarkable  fix  himself.  When  he  wanted 
to  touch  upon  anything  very  deep,  he  laid  his  fore-finger  with  its  tip 
between  his  eyes  on  the  organ  of  individuality,  and  then  gradually 
drew  it  down  the  length  of  his  nose.  He  goes  down  so  deep,  far 
below  the  nature  of  things,  that  one  must  take  off  not  only  his  clothes, 
but  his  Sinnlichkeit — his  memory,  his  common-sense,  imagination,  affec 
tions,  and  then  he  becomes  a  blosse  Geist,  and  is  prepared  to  go  down  to 
the  deep,  deep  sea  of  Philosophy. 

Mem.  The  pudding-faced  youth  who  tried  to  comprehend  the  dis 
tinction  between  Daseyn  and  Realite,  and  could  not. 

This  youth  is  sketched — 

Heard  Schelling  on  Offenbarungs-Philosophie*  He  found  a  good 
deal  of  fault  with  Kant,  but  praised  Eichte,  and  said  he  had  done 
great  service  to  philosophy  ;  thought  his  "  Naturrecht "  his  best  thing ; 
praised  the  "  Way  towards  a  Blessed  Life  "  for  its  dialectic  skill,  com 
pared  it  with  Hegel's  works,  which  he  said  were  merely  mechanical, 
though  he  only  alluded  to  Hegel  and  did  not  name  him ;.  some  hissed 
at  the  allusion.  Then  he  added  that  in  his  (Hegel's)  case  the  work 
was  mere  mechanism,  the  grinding  in  a  mill,  and  men  paid  much  more 
attention  to  the  noise  of  the  clapper  ^than  to  the  meal  which  was 
alleged  to  be  ground.  Upon  this  all  laughed.* 

Schelling  is  about  seventy,  short,  5  ft.  6  in.  or  less,  looks  mild,  his  nose 
is  short  and  slightly  turned  up,  hair  white  as  snow,  an  ample  forehead, 
large  mouth  and  pale  face,  his  eyes  blue,  and  have  once  been  very 
bright,  his  voice  is  feeble — he  has  lost  some  teeth,  so  the  articulation  ia 

*  Schelling  did  not  recant,  in  set  terms,  his  early  philosophy  of  Transcendental  Ideal 
ism,  but  was  trying  to  make  Evangelical  Religion  appear  to  be  the  same  thing.  The  old. 
philosopher,  with  his  cosmetics  and  hair-dyes,  deceived  nobody.  His  long  silence  was 
interrupted  by  this  call  to  Berlin,  with  the  well-understood  object  of  lecturing  down 
Hegelianism,  which  was  then  in  its  prime.  It  was  a  curious  piece  of  legerdemain, 
during  which  the  Divine  Personages  and  the  Church  itself,  which  men  had  seen  Schelling 
actually  swallow  in  1800,  turned  up  again  quite  briskly,  saying,.  "  Here  we  are  ! " 


216  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

not  very  distinct.  Audience  150  to  200 — the  largest  by  far  that  I  have 
seen ;  when  one  came  in  after  the  lecture  began,  the  rest  hissed  at  him. 
It  seems  to  me  a  pity  he  should  lecture  ;  the  greater  part,  I  am  told, 
come  to  hear  him  from  curiosity — to  see  a  famous  man,  and  smile  at  his 
doctrines.  Others  come  solely  to  mock  at  the  senilities  of  a  man  who 
is  going  to  "  squash  the  head  of  the  great  serpent  of  scepticism  as  if  it 
were  a  Gottingen  sausage."  He  has  few  that  follow  his  notions  here 
at  present,  though  of  course  all  respect  a  man  who  has  done  so  much 
for  philosophy.  The  Hegelians  regard  him  as  the  foe  of  freedom, 
brought  here  to  keep  up  the  existing  order  of  things. 

He  also  heard  Vatke  on  Psalms  iv.  v. :  Michelet  on  Logic  ; 
Twesten  on  the  Relation  between  Faith  and  Knowledge  ;  Bockh 
on  the  Antigone  ;  Steffens  on  Anthropology. 

After  some  delay  be  obtained  permission  to  visit  the  public 
schools  of  the  City  of  Berlin,  which  he  did  in  company  with 
Mr.  Fay,  the  American  Charge  des  Affaires.  He  heard  various 
recitations,  extracted  from  the  teachers  all  the  details  of  their 
method,  and  observed  tbe  babits  of  the  boys  and  girls.  The 
notes  are  too  disjointed  for  publication. 

WITTENBEKG  AND  LUTHER. — We  entered  the  church  by  the  door 
where  Luther  put  up  the  95  theses.  I  bought  a  copy  of  them  in  the 
church  ;  here  they  are  (a  pamphlet  of  16  pages)  ;  what  a  change  from 
then  till  now  !  When  shall  the  work  end?  At  night  I  walked  in  front 
of  the  door  to  meditate.  The  evening  star  looked  down.  A  few  per 
sons  went  and  came.  The  soft  air  fell  upon  my  head.  I  felt  the  spirit 
of  the  great  Reformer.  Three  centuries  and*  a  quarter,  and  what  a 
change  !  Three  centuries  and  a  quarter  more,  and  it  will  be  said,  the 
Protestant  religion  did  little  in  comparison  with  what  has  since  been 
done  ;  well,  if  this  work  be  of  God !  * 

Went  to  Luther's  house.  Here  it  is,  (an  engraving).  I  saw  the 
very  room  in  which  he  used  to  write,  and  think,  and  work ;  the  stove 
which  he  devised  himself,  with  its  reliefs  representing;  the  four  evan 
gelists  and  other  scriptural  characters.  There  was  the  seat  at  the 
window  where  he  sat  with  Catherine  de  Bore,  and  looked  at  the 
evening  sky ;  there  the  table  at  which  he  sat  with  Melancthon  and  the 
rest.  The  books  are  gone,  (he  .never  had  many),  the  papers,  the  man. 
I  went  into  another  room  which  served  for  family  purposes,  and  yet 
another  where  he  lectured.  Here  are  still  curious  things  of  his ;  his 
beer-jug ;  a  glass  cup  given  him  by  the  Elector,  and  broken  to  pieces 
by  Peter  the  Great.  Here  are  some  embroideries  from  the  hand  of 

*  There  is  a  bronze  statue  of  Luther  in  the  market-place,  on  which  is  the  inscrip 
tion  i— ~ 

"  Ist's  Grotteswerk,  so  wird's  bestehen, 
Ist's  Menschenwerk,  wird's  untergehen." 

"  Is  it  God's  work,  'twill  always  stay, 
IB  it  man's  work,  'twill  pass  away." 


THEODORE   PARKER.  217 

Catherine,  a  face  of  Luther  worked  perhaps  by  her.  Here  were  the 
impressions  of  his  seal.  I  bought  one,  and  here  is  the  explanation  of 
it  (a  printed  sheet  in  German  hand-writing,  entitled  Dr.  Martin 
Luther's  Petschafts-Erklarung).  I  saw  the  genealogical  tree  of  his 
family.  Six  of  his  descendants  still  live,  at  Berlin,  Erfurt,  Potsdam, 
and  Leipsic,  all  in  humble  circumstances.  I  plucked  a  few  leaves  from 
a  linden  and  a  rose-bush  that  grew  in  the  garden.  The  guide  had 
great  reverence  for  the  reformer  der  keilige  Dr.  Luther,  as  he  called  him. 
I  had  heard  "  stout  old  Martin"  often  enough,  but  here  I  felt  nearer 
to  the  man  than  before.  God  be  praised  that  he  tias  lived ! 

We  went  out  of  the  walls  to  the  spot  where  he  burned  the  Pope's 
Bull.  It  is  railed  round,  planted  with  shrubs,  &c.  A  young  oak 
grows  now  in  the  midst  of  it ;  the  old  oak  under  which  the  thing  was 
done  was  hewn  down  in  the  Seven  Tears'  War. 

We  went  to  his  monument ;  the  pedestal  is  of  polished  granite ;  I 
only  regretted  the  polish.  Beneath  the  canopy  is  a  fine  brown  figure 
of  Luther  in  his  preacher's  robes,  with  his  Bible  in  his  arms — a  grand 
figure — large,  manly,  with  that  peasant's  expression,  but  full  of  noble 
ness  and  commanding  faith. 

NEAR  FRANKFORT. — Went  into  a  little  Catholic  church,  very  poor, 
and  very  dirty.  It  had  an  old  brass  skillet  at  the  door  to  hold  the 
sacred  water.  Some  daubs  hung  up  here  and  there,  wretched  crucifixes, 
&c.  The  stone  floor  could  not  have  been  swept  for  a  year  at  least ; 
it  was  like  the  street  itself.  There  were  great  cracks  in  the  main  door, 
which  was  closed,  and  I  could  put  my  hand  through  in  many  places. 
Yet  comfortless  and  unsesthetic  as  it  was,  it  was  aifecting.  Here  some 
poor  man  labours  on  all  his  life,  in  celibacy  and  silence,  perhaps  a  man 
of  genius,  no  doubt  of  learning ;  a  little  band  call  him  their  father. 
He  baptizes,  marries,  buries  them  ;  tells  them  of  heaven,  and  perhaps 
goes  there  to  see  the  Pope. 

FRANKFORT.  —  Went  into  the  Jiidengasse,  which  is  the  greatest 
curiosity  in  the  place  to  me.  It  looks  like  the  middle  ages.  The  Jews 
of  Frankfort,  I  am  told,  have  split  into  two  parties : — 1.  The  old 
Biblico-Talmudistic  Jews,  who  expect  the  Messiah  ;  and,  2.  Those  who 
reject  the  notion  of  a  Messiah  yet  to  come.  Strange  to  say,  the 
Government,  which  of  course  has  no  belief  in  a  Jewish  Messiah  yet  to 
come,  takes  the  side  of  the  old  party  and  wars  against  the  new  school 
of  Jews.  What  a  curious  phenomenon  this,  of  the  Jews  living  in  the 
civilization  of  the  19th  century,  and  sharing  so  few  of  its  ideas. 

In  Halle  he  met  Tholuck,  and  heard  him  lecture.  In  Heidel 
berg,  he  visited  all  the  notable  professors,  who  received  him 
kindly,  and  talked  at  great  lengtk  with  him,  and  he  had  very 
pleasant  interviews  with  the  veteran  historian  Schlosser,  and 
with  Gervinus,  who  was  then  about  thirty-four  or  thirty-five  years 
of  age,  and  had  just  been  called  to  that  university.  He  learned 
to  prize  highly  Mr.  Parker's  subsequent  works,  and  expressed  his 
warm  acknowledgments  in  1856,  with  a  hope  that  a  friendship 
might  be  cultivated. 


218  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Gervinus  thinks  that  the  influence  of  Strauss  has  passed  'away;  so 
says  Ullrnann.  I  think  them  mistaken.  The  first  influence,  that  of 
making  a  noise,  is  over,  no  doubt ;  but  the  truth  which  he  has  brought 
to  light  will  sink  into,  the  German  theology,  and  mould  it  anew.  Just 
{is  the  doubts  so  haughtily  expressed  in  the  Wolfeubiittel  fragments 
have  done.  Men  mistake  a  cessation  of  the  means  for  a  cessation  of  the 
end.  Strauss  organizes  no  party,  so  there  is  no  obvious  action  ;  but  his 
thoughts  are  not  dead — not  even  inactive,  I  fancy.  They  will  yet  do 
some  work.  By-and-bye  his  falsehood  will  get  separated  from  his* truth, 
and  be  forgot.  The  truth  of  his  book  will  appear. 

He  travelled  to  Tubingen  with  a  very  talkative  young  man, 
who  booked  himself  as  a  BeJdeidungs-Kunst  Assessor  (a  euphuism 
for  journeyman  tailor)  who  was  travelling  for  the  cesthetische 
Angeleyenheiten  seines  Herzens  (to  give  his  heart  aesthetic 
advantages.) 

"Went  to  see  Professor  Ewald.  "We  sent  up  our  names,  stating  that 
we  were  Americans.  He  came  out  and  very  kindly  brought  us  into  his 
study.  He  is  about  fifty,  with  long  hair  that  hangs  about  his  shoulders. 
He  wore  a  sort  of  blouse  of  calico,  with  no  vest  or  neckerchief.  Has  a 
fine  spiritual  countenance.  He  expressed  surprise  that  I  in  America 
should  know  his  works ;  still  more  that  his  works  upon  the  Prophets 
should  have  fallen  into  my  hands.  He  complains  that  the  Bible  is  not 
studied  with  freedom  ;  says  that  the  more  you  study  it,  and  the  more 
freely,  the  more  excellent  it  appears.  He  laughed  about  men  fearing 
for  religion  lest  it  failed.  I  was  glad  to  hear  him  say  that  the  irreli 
gious  tendency  of  philosophy  had  received  an  entire  check,  and  mainly 
from  the  higher  philosophy  itself. 

He  was  glad  to  hear  that  I  had  translated  De  Wette,  for,  he  said,  in 
ten  years  it  would  produce  a  great  change  in  theological  affairs.  De 
Wette  was  a  noble  man,  but  a  little  too  sceptical.  Thus  in  Job  he  is 
too  sceptical. 

Here  he  heard  lectures  from  Schmidt,  Ewald,  and  Baur.  On 
reaching  Bale,  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  De  Wette,  who  took 
him  to  visit  various  people  arid  places. 

Heard  De  "Wette  again  on  the  Introduction  to  Dogmatik.  In  this 
lecture  he  stated  that  there  were  no  ideas  ready  made  in  the  human 
soul,  but  a  tendency  to  such — laws  that  necessarily  produce  them.  So 
the  idea  of  God  did  not  originate  in  feeling,  but  in  an  undetermined 
tendency  which  consciousness  determines  from  time  to  time. 

He  took  us  to  the  library  to  see  some  curious  MSS. ;  e.  g.,  the  Codex 
which  Erasmus  printed  the  New  Testament  from — the  Codex  A  of  Gries- 
bach — one  of  Gregory  the  Great,  with  a  commentary,  not  yet  printed. 
Some  beautiful  Hebrew  MSS.,  some  of  them  full  of  miniatures,  remark 
ably  well  done,  many  of  them  quite  like  the  Old  Florentine  School.  I  saw 
a  curious  copy  of  Erasmus's  "  Laus  Stultitise,"  with  marginal  illustra 
tions  from  the  hand  of  Holbein,  which  give  me  a  higher  opinion  of  his 


THEODORE    PARKER.  219 

genius  than  all  the  Eves,  Adams  and  Veuuses  which  he  has  painted  in 
such  numbers.  There  is  one  cut  representing  the  Immaculate  Concep 
tion  ;  the  homunculus  or  corpusculum,  in  the  shape  of  a  griffin,  was 
entering  the  mouth  of  the  Virgin.  This  was  quite  in  the  taste  of  the 
times.  All  these  were  marvellously  well  done — the  ink  strong  and 
black  as  if  new. 

And  here  is  a  very  fine  portrait  of  Erasmus.  He  sits  with  that 
peculiar  cap  and  writes.  There  is  a  remarkable  unity  in  the  whole 
piece.  Erasmus  was  an  elegant  man  in  all  respects — genteel ;  all  the 
fineness  of  his  character  is  pourtrayed  here,  the  canning  mouth,  com 
passed  with  sharp  lips — the  nose,  slender,  delicate — the  eyes  bright, 
but  cast  down,  sly,  witty. 

Here  I  saw  a  curious  piece  of  MS.  in  the  handwriting  of  Erasmus. 
It  was  a  satir.6  in  Latin  iambics  on  Pope  Julius  II.,  keen  and  terrible. 
It  has  never  been  printed. 

Took  dinner  with  Dr.  De  Wette.  He  was  very  pleasant.  I  sat  by 
him  at  dinner ;  we  talked  a  good  deal  about  German  theology. 

De  "Wette,  I  learn,  has  of  late  years  become  much  more  Conserva 
tive.  Indeed,  I  think  there  is  not  a  sound  and  settled  philosophy  out 
of  which  his  opinions  have  grown.  Hence  the  wavering  uncertainty  of 
the  man.  In  youth  he  was  the  leader  of  the  enthusiastic  young  men, 
the  champion  of  freedom.  Now,  a  life  of  misfortunechas  in  some  sense 
soured  him.  Last  year,  at  Jena,  all  the  students  came  out  to  receive 
him ;  he  made  a  speech,  advised  them  to  go  home  and  study  their  books, 
and  be  silent ! 

He  received  me  quite  warmly,  and  our  parting  was  rather  tender — 
certainly  cuiite  affectionate.  I  do  not  think  my  interviews  have  either 
raised  or  diminished  the  esteem  I  had  for  the  man. 

At  Zurich  he  heard  Hitzig  lecture  on  certain  points  of  Hebrew 
Syntax,  and  Oken  on  tbe  Amphibia.  After  visiting  all  tbe 
famous  places  of  Switzerland,  he  returned  to  Bale,  to  pass  down 
the  Rhine.  At  Bonn,  he  stopped  to  deliver  letters,  and  saw  one 
or  two  professors.  Thence  he  went  to  Cologne,  through  Belgium 
to  Antwerp,  where  he  took  the  boat  for  London.  Here  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Hennell,  took  tea  with  Carlyle,  and  met 
Sterling,  who  was  then  "  near  the  skies — a  consumption  short 
ening  his  life."  After  a  brief  trip  to  several  places  in  England, 
he  went  to  Liverpool,  where  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  find 
Mr.  Martineau,  and  preached  for  him. 

Somewhere  in  England  he  met  an  Episcopal  clergyman  whose 
liberal  sentiments  enticed  him  into  conversation. 

I  asked  him  if  it  were  not  possible  for  all  classes  of  Christians  to 
agree  to  differ  about  their  theological  symbols,  ceremonies,  disciplines, 
modes  and  the  like,  while  they  fell  back  on  the  great  principles  of 
religion  and  morality  ;  in  a  word,  on  religion  and  morality  themselves  ; 
and  I  told  him  that  I  had  aimed  in  my  humble  way  to  bring  this  about. 


220  LIFE  OF  THEODORE  PARKER. 

He  said  lie  liked  the  plan  much,  and  did  not  see  why  all  could  not 
unite  on  these  principles  as  they  were  expressed  in  the  Thirty-nine 
Articles ! 

There  is  hardly  ever  an  attempt  at  a  fine  description  in  the 
journal  in  this  tour  :  but  all  which  he  saw  and  heard  is  briefly 
characterized  in  notes  and  phrases,  well  equipped  with  the  neces 
sary  statistics.  He  observed  the  soil,  the  rocks,  the  method  of 
culture,  and  the  crops  ;  collected  newspaper  scraps,  and  little  en 
gravings  of  places  and  edifices  ;  made  with  his  pen  sketches  of 
professors,  soldiers,  plans  of  buildings,  monuments ;  curtly  de 
scribed  every  man  he  spoke  with.  Nothing  escaped  his  cool  and 
simple  observation.  He  found  himself  at  home  with  each 
learned  man  in  his  own  province,  and  thus  saved  the  talk  from 
evaporating  in  generalities.  No  American  ever  travelled  with  a 
better  passport. 

Sept.  1,  1844,  Sunday. — After  a  most  prosperous  and  felicitous 
voyage  of  twelve  days,  completing  the  quickest  passage  ever  made,  I 
reached  home — saw  the  household,  and  the  blessed  E/ussells,  all  the  four 
little  and  live  plants  in  "bed.  "Who  shall  tell  my  joy  at  returning,  who 
the  rapture  with  which  I  saw  old  friends  ! 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Letters  written  in  Europe — To  Isaac  Parker — Dr.  Francis — Dr.  Lamson,  1844. 

TO   HIS   BROTHER,    ISAAC   PARKER,    LEXINGTON. 

Naples,  Feb.  12,  1844. 

MY  DEAR  BEOTHEE, — I  suppose  you  have  been  to  meeting  to-day, 
with  wife  and  children  in  the  sleigh,  and  now  sit  in  your  room,  with  a 
great  fire  to  keep  out  the  north-westers.  To-morrow  you  will  sled  wood 
out  of  the  forest,  or  the  swamps,  perhaps.  But  here  we  have  the  ver 
dure  of  spring.  Flowers  are  in  blossom  everywhere,  roses  in  the 
gardens,  and  oranges  hang  ripe  and  golden  on  the  trees.  It  is  a  fine 
sight,  too— a  tree  full  of  oranges.  A.n  apple-tree  full  of  Baldwins,  or  a 
peach-tree  loaded  with  yellow  Rare-ripes,  is  beautiful ;  but  an  orange- 
tree,  with  its  green  leaves  and  its  gold  fruit,  far  surpasses  it.  Here 
you  see  in  the  fields  what  we  cultivate  in  hot-houses.  The  fig  ripens 
its  fruit  in  the  open  air,  the  prickly  pear  grows  on  the  side  of  all 
the  mountains,  and  dirty  boys  sell  the  delicious  hill-side  figs  in  the 
streets.  Every  inch  of  ground  is  cultivated,  not  as  we  cultivate  it,  but 
with  the  nicety  of  a  garden.  I  have  not  seen  a  plough  in  Italy.  Almost 
all  the  cultivation  is  with  the  hoe  and  the  spade,  even  where  grain  is 
sowed.  But  their  farming  tools  are  a  century  behind  ours.  They  bring 
hay  to  market  on  the  backs  of  asses,  each  ass  carrying  three  bundles, 
or  about  300  pounds.  In  the  same  way  they  carry  wood,  wine,  and 
even  manure.  The  harnesses  are  rudely  made,  and  gall  the  cattle  un 
mercifully.  They  put  one  single  ox  into  the  shafts  of  a  cart,  and  a 
horse,  a  mule,  an  ass,  or  a  cow  on  each  side  of  him :  then  the  driver 
mounts  the  cart,  and  takes  the  reins,  fastened  to  a  ring  in  the  ox's 
nose,  and  drives  off.  It  is  a  queer  country  in  its  customs.  In  all  the 
public-houses  men  do  the  chamber-work  (for  the  women  get  into  other 
kinds  of  work,  and  so  can't  be  trusted),  while  you  find  women  driving 
oxen,  and  even  sweeping  the  streets  !  Some  of  the  customs  are  very 
strange.  The  Carnival  is  a  sort  of  holy  time :  it  begins  the  6th  of 
January,  and  lasts  till  the  22nd  of  February  (this  year).  During  the 
last  week  of  Carnival,  on  Sunday  afternoon,  men  dress  themselves  up 
in  masks — in  all  sorts  of  foolish  disguises,  and  walk  or  ride  about  the 
Strada  di  Toledo,  one  of  the  principal  streets  of  the  city.  To-day  we 


222  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

went  to  see  it.  The  street  i8  about  a  mile  and  a-half  long,  and  quite 
wide.  It  was  full  of  people,  and  the  windows  and  balconies  of  the  tall 
houses  were  crowded  with  men,  women,  and  children.  In  the  centre 
of  the  street  was  room  left  for  the  procession  of  carriages  to  pass,  one 
end  of  the  procession  going  up  while  the  other  end  came  down.  First 
came  private  carriages,  hackney-coaches,  &c.,  some  of  them  containing 
maskers,  others  not ;  then  came  an  enormous  carriage,  drawn  by  four 
horses,  in  the  shape  of  a  dragon,  with  head,  wings,  and  tail,  as  you  see 
in  the  picture  books :  it  was  full  of  people  covered  with  masques  ;  then 
came  the  Prince  of  Salerno-:— brother  to  the  king  ;.  then  a  carriage  full 
of  men  dressed  up  in  the  shape  of  horses,  asses,  bears,  rabbits,  &c. 
Private  carriages  followed :  then  came  the  carriage  of  the  king,  with 
the  king  himself  also  in  a  "fancy  dress;"  then  others  of  the  royal 
family,  nobles,  gentlemen,  &c.  Well,  they  all  threw  sugar-plums 
at  one  another,  and  at  the  people  in  the  streets  and  at  the  win 
dows-  The  king,  and  some  others,  threw  real  sugar-plums,  but  most 
of  them  prefer  such  as  are  made  of  lime  or  chalk,  which  hurt  a  little 
where  they  hit.  Some  one  in  the  king's  carriage,  when  it  passed  ours, 
threw  a  handful  and  broke  the  glass  of  my  spectacles.  A  wagon 
followed  close  behind  the  king  to  supply  him  and  his  companions  with 
sugar-plums  when  the  stock  failed,  and  a  barrel  would  not  last  ten 
minutes. 

You  will  think  this  very  absurd  conduct,  and  so  it  is.  It  seemed 
worse  than  the  sports  of  boys — they  are  well  for  boys  ;  but  here  the 
whole  population  of  the  city  spent  the  afternoon,  with  the  KING  at 
their  head,  in  this  foolish  frolic.  "What  would  they  say  if  the  Yankees 
were  half  so  foolish !  Let  me  give  you  some  idea  of  the  state  of  the 
population.  There  are  no  free  schools,  and  few  schools  not  free.  Of 
course  the  people  are  ignorant.  Beggars  swarm  in  the  streets,  yet  a 
most  abundant  provision  has  been  made  for  their  support,  which  is 
eaten  up  by  the  overseers  of  the  funds,  one  man,  a  nobleman,  making  about 
18,000  dollars  a  year  out  of  one  establishment,  in  which  he  half  starves 
the  poor  wretches.  The  taxes  are  enormous,  never  less  than  20  per 
cent,  of  the  income,  and  often  50  per  cent.  The  king,  however  (they 
say),  is  a  wise  man,  and  wishes  well  for  the  people.  I  hope  he  does. 
Provisions  of  all  kinds  are  abundant  and  cheap.  Salt  is  a  monopoly 
of  the  Government,  and  could  be  sold  for  18  cents  the  bushel,  but 
is  sold  for  about  300  dollars.  The  profit  of  this  necessary  of  life 
goes  into  the  royal  chest.  For  four  cents  I  can  buy  ten  enormous 
oranges,  or  in  Sicily  I  can  get  forty  for  the  same  money. 

I  have  been  up  to  the  top  of  Vesuvius  to-day.  There  is  no  better 
way  of  passing  the  Sunday  here,  or,  rather,  there  is  no  Sunday  in 
Europe,  and  no  day  of  rest.  It  (Vesuvius)  is  just  as  the  books  describe 
it,  but  it  is  a  most  magnificent  spectacle,  after  all.  I  went  so  near  the 
centre  of  the  crater  that  it  was  necessary  to  run  and  escape  the  large 
masses  of  melted  stone  which  fell  continually.  Some  of  the  little  frag 
ments  fell  on  my  shoulders,  but  did  no  harm.  The  whole  mountain, 
and,  indeed,  all  the  surrounding  country  is  volcanic.  Yesterday  we 
went  to  the  ruins  of  Baia3,  and  visited  the  spot  where  Cicero  had  his 
villa,  where  Horace  wrote  his  poems,  and  where  Pollio  fattened  the 
lampreys  with  his  refractory  slaves.  But  my  letter  must  end.  It  will 
be  a  good  while  before  I  shall  see  you  again,  so  pray  remember  me  to 


THEODORE   PARKER.  223 

yours.  Tell  Uncle  P.,  if  you  see  him,  that  I  shall  write  him  by  the 
next  opportunity  So,  believe  me,  your  affectionate  brother,  not  at  all 
changed,  T.  P. 

TO   DR.    FRANCIS. 

Oxford,  October  18,  1843. 

Puseyism  is  getting  forward  rapidly ;  it  has  already  embraced  the 
greater  part  of  the  piety,  and  the  learning,  too,  of  the  Church  ;  and 
men  look  forward  confidently  to  the  time  when  the  Puseyites  will  all 
secede  in  a  body  as  not  far  distant.  Eeally  the  rise  of  this  party  in  the 
English  Church  is  one  of  the  most  encouraging  signs  of  the  times.  The 
Old  Church  is  not  so  dead  as  men  fancied ;  some  are  found  who  say  to 
the  fat  bishops  and  easy  deans,  "  Gro  to  the  devil  with  your  livings  and 
your  rents — your  tithes  and  your  distrainings ;  let  us  put  life  into  these 
old  forms  which  you  are  humbugging  the  people  withal.  We  want  a 
revival  of  Christianity — primitive  Christianity,  and  will  believe  anything 
and  sacrifice  all  things,  but  we  will  have  it."  Here  is  Dr.  Newman — 
gives  up  a  rich  living  out  of  conscientious  scruples  !  Dr.  Pusey,  born 
of  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  the  kingdom,  who  at  Pusey  Hall  keep 
a  horn  of  gold  given  them  by  Canute — a  man  bred  in  all  tenderness, 
rides  on  the  outside  of  coaches,  and  submits  to  all  manner  of  hard  fare, 
to  save  money  to  give  to  the  poor  and  promote  education,  Christianity, 
and  the  like  of  that !  He  says  a  man  in  good  circumstances  ought  to 
give  up  a  fourth  part  of  his  income  for  benevolent  purposes ! — and 
does  it  ! 

*##*** 

When  we  were  at  Manchester  we  went  into  a  very  old  church,  the 
newest  part  of  it  built  in  1422.  It  was  very  beautiful.  We  saw  where 
Cromwell's  soldiers — for  they  made  barracks  of  the  church — "  broke 
down  the  carved  work."  I  felt  the  natural  emotions  of  reverence  at 
treading  such  ancient  aisles,  consecrated  by  the  prayers  and  remem 
brances  of  400  years  ;  and  felt,  too,  a  sort  of  hatred  towards  Old  Noll, 
who  did  such  things.  But  the  next  day  I  went  to  worship  in 
the  old  church.  The  organ  gave  out  its  beautiful  tones ;  the  sexton, 
arrayed  in  a  surplice,  showed  us  into  a  handsome  pew,  but  sent 
an  old,  tottering,  venerable  man  into  a  little  dirty  box.  Presently 
the  dean  and  canons  came  in,  in  their  robes,  preceded  by  an  usher. 
The  dean  has  a  salary  of  about  25,000  dollars  per  annum.  A  fat 
chough,  with  a  face  like  George  III.,  got  into  the  reading  desk,  and 
"galloped  like  a  hunter  through  his  prayers;""  and  another  preached  a 
most  stupid  and  arrogant  sermon.  I  could  not  bub  think  Cromwell 
did  only  half  his  work,  and  when  I  was  at  Oxford  I  wondered  why  he 
never  went  there  with  his  breaching  cannon. 

###### 

I  have  been  to  Kenil worth,  to  Warwick  ^Castle  ;  have  been  in  the 
room  where  Shakspeare  was  born,  and  have  stood  over  his  grave — you 
may  judge  with  what  feelings. 

****## 

I  have  seen  Carlyle  twice,  taken  tea  with  him  on  Sunday  night;  and 
taken  breakfast  with  Babbage,  and  had  a  fine  visit ;  saw  his  wonders 
and  heard  his  wonders.  I  shall  have  much  to  tell  you  some  day. 


224  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

He  wrote  thus  to  Dr.  Lamson,  after  slightly  describing  the 
buildings  and  pictures  at  Oxford  : — 

October  18,  1843. 

I  heard  a  great  hell  tolling.  I  went  into  the  church  (St.  Mary's), 
surrounded  by  colleges,  and  was  told  that  Mr.  Monkhouse,  a  Fellow  of 
Queen's  College,  was  to  preach  before  the  Vice- Chancellor  and  Fel 
lows.  Aha !  though  I ;  I  am  lucky  indeed.  I  shall  hear  an  Oxford 
sermon — profound,  beautiful,  eloquent.  Here  is  something  to  make 
a  plain  Yankee  preacher  blush  for  himself  and  his  friends.  I  walked 
about  over  the  dust  of  Wallis  and  Hoadley,  and  around  the  monuments 
of  Sir  William  Jones  and  other  great  clerks,  till  the  Vice- Chancellor 
came,  and  sundry  ushers,  with  silver  wands  and  golden,  and  a  great 
flourish. 

Mr.  Monkhouse  read  a  little  prayer,  for  the  University  of  Oxford, 
for  Queen's  College  in  special,  and,  in  particular,  for  Queen  Victoria 
and  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  Then -came  the  sermon,  from  2  Timothy, 
iv.,  7,  8.  He  stated  that  he  should  inquire  "  if  Paul  were  certain  of 
salvation  at  the  time  of  writing,"  and  on  what  grounds  his  hope  of  sal 
vation  rested.  1.  Paul  "  was  no  common  man,  he  was  infallibly  inspired," 
therefore  his  notion  of  salvation  must  of  necessity  be  the  true  one. 
Paul  did  not  rely  on  his  own  works.  No :  he  knew  that  God  never 
relied  on  human  means.  He  gave  the  apostles  this  power  to  raise  the 
dead,  &c.,  but  never  relied  on  the  apostles  to  spread  Christianity.  So 
Paul  did  not  rely  for  salvation  on  his  works.  2.  There  is  a  twofold 
doctrine  in  the  text: — 1,  Hope,  2,  Encouragement  or  Joy.  I.  Joy. 
Didn't  look  as  if  there  was  anything  to  rejoice  for ;  but  "  opera  Deisunt 
in  media  contraria"  as  Luther  said  :  still  Paul  was  joyful,  because  he 
was  righteous.  A  Pagan  said  "nisi  Justus  non  felix  (or  fortunatus)" 
Here  he  proved  from  the  Old  Testament,  the  Pagans,  and  the  Fathers, 
that  "  good  men,  in  general,  are  happy."  Then  he  showed  that 
"  wicked  men  are  not  happy,"  from  the  case  of  Haman,  and  also  by 
citations.  II.  Hope.  Paul  had  hope  of  heaven.  Here  he  proved  from 
the  New  Testament,  especially  from  James  and  Peter,  that  Hope  was  a 
good  thing,  and  they  that  had  none  of  it  were  badly  off.  He  quoted 
the  ancients  to  the  same  effect,  "  Spes  hominum  consolatio  sola."  After  all 
that  has  been  said  of  Hope,  the  half  hasn't  been  told.  Hope  never 
fails ;  for  "  whom  God  hath  justified,"  &c.  Paul  hoped  for  a  "  crown 
of  righteousness."  Paul  sure  of  enjoyment  now — just  as  sure  of  heaven 
hereafter.  No  wonder  he  rejoiced.  Before  Christ,  pain  was  a  bad 
thing;  now  it  is  a  good  thing — "count  it  all  joy,"  &c.  Trouble  is  a 
greater  teacher  than  Eeason  and  Eevelation,  too.  Our  great  business 
is  to  be  saved.  Salvation  depends  on  justification.  Here  he  fell  upon 
the  Antinomians  and  smote  them  "  hip  and  thigh."  Paul's  prize  was 
not  for  himself  alone.  So  we  must  not  be  proud  if  we  are  saved,  since 
it  don't  depend  on  our  worthiness ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God.  Besides,  we 
may  fall  from  grace,  and  then,  Paul  says  to  the  Hebrews,  "  it  is  im 
possible  to  save  such  an  one." 

Application  1.  Have  faith.  David  had  faith  that  he  could  conquer 
Goliah ;  so  we.  Great  religious  movement  now-a-days.  But  God  never 
began  a  work  without  Satan  trying  to  subvert  it.  God  wrought  inira- 


THEODORE   PARKER.  225 

cles  in  Egypt :  the  Devil  tried.     God  incarnated  Himself  in  Jesus ;  the 
Devil  possessed  many  bodies.     God  inspired  the  Apostles ;  the  Devil 
raised  up  false  prophets.     God  raised  up  the  Eeformers;  the  Devil 
Anti-reformers.     2.  Avoid  all  lukewarmness. 
That  is  a  fair  analysis  of  the  sermon. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

Lyons,  Dec.  31,  1843  ;  Jan.  4,  1844. 

It  is  now  the  last  day  of  the  year,  and  while  you  are  getting  ready 
to  preach,  I  will  sit  down  and  write  you  a  letter  from  this  famous  old 
city — the  City  of  Massacres,  it  might  be  called — for  Antoninus,  the 
illustrious  and  philosophical,  butchered  9000  Christians  here  at  once, 
as  the  legend  says ;  and  the  wretched  Terrorists  of  the  Revolution 
guillotined,  and  noyaded,  and  mitrailled,  I  know  not  how  many.  I  have 
seen  the  bones  of  the  Christian  martyrs  piled  up  in  a  large  vault.  I 
have  been  into  the  cellar  where  Polycarp  preached  the  Gospel  of  Chris 
tianity,  when  it  cost  something  to  be  a  Christian  (and  meant  something, 
too),  and  have  stood  on  the  very  grave  of  Irenaeus. 

I  wish  you  were  here,  you  would  enjoy  all  this  even  more  than  I  do. 
Here  is  a  church — that  of  St.  Irenaeus,  built  over  the  very  spot  where 
many  of  the  Christians  were  massacred ;  over  the  very  vaults  where  the 
early  heroes  of  the  faith  preached,  and  where,  too,  they  died.  Really, 
one  forgets  the  Christianity  of  the  Boston  Association,  the  heroes  of 
the  Thursday  Lecture,  and  the  trials,  dangers,  and  sufferings  of  Brothers 

and (the  last  things  one  ought  to  forget,  no  doubt),  and  comes 

back  to  the  time  when  the  world  said,  "  Thou  shalt  not  be  a  Christian," 
and  the  modest  man  said,  "  Please  God,  you  lie  in  your  teeth,  for  I  shall 
be  a  Christian !  "  When  you  stand  on  the  spot  where  such  men  perished, 
with  their  bones  under  your  feet,  you  begin  to  feel  the  difference  between 
those  days  and  ours. 

I  began  this  letter  at  Lyons  ;  I  shall  finish  it  at  Aries. 

****** 

Here  is  a  curious  Cathedral,  built  at  a  time  when  Christianity  filled 
the  mind  of  the  artist,  but  before  it  had  taken  a  peculiar  architectural 
form.  Of  course  there  is  a  struggle  between  the  old  form  (the  Roman 
architecture,  with  its  round  arches  and  heavy,  solid  columns),  and  the 
new  sentiment,  which  at  length  shot  up  into  those  wonderful  buildings, 
the  Gothic  churches.  Oh,  how  they  fill  the  heart,  those  old  piles ! 
You  feel  that  they  grew  up  just  as  the  great  forests  grow ;  that  each 
age  altered  them,  and  took  away  and  added,  just  as  it  does  in  nature. 
Here,  however,  the  old  form  prevails,  but  on  the  portal  the  artist  has 
lavished  his  genius  in  wanton  luxuriance !  He  has  carved  out  the 
Almighty  over  the  door,  and  the  angels  on  the  slopes  of  the  sides,  and 
the  Last  Judgment,  with  apostles,  and  saints,  and  devils  a  discretion. 
The  whole  looks  odd  enough.  It  might  excite  devotion  in  the  Middle 
Ages ;  now  it  only  makes  one  laugh  and  think  of  the  boys  that  creep 
before  they  walk. 

We  came  here  from  Avignon,  and  from  Lyons  to  Avignon,  through 
a  very  interesting  country.     Here  "  Ca3sar  swam  the  Rhone,  but  kept 
16 


226  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE     OF 

his  Commentaries  dry"  (every  school-boy  knows  they  are  dry  still),  and 
here  Hannibal  passed  the  same  stream.  A  whole  host  of  recollections 
comes  up  in  my  rnind  as  I  ride  along  the  banks  of  the  Rhone  and  read 
Caesar's  own  words,  and  think  of  what  has  taken  place  since  he  came 

here,  and  had  a  "  talk  "  with  the  Helvetii  in  this  neighbourhood. 
#  *  *  #  *  * 

Here  everything  differs  so  much  from  home,  and  I  depart  so  much 
from  my  common  way  of  life,  that  I  sometimes  doubt  if  I  am  the  same 
Theodore  Parker  that  used  to  live  at  West  Roxbury.  I  am  half  inclined 
to  believe  that  he  is  a  mythological  person,  and  has  no  real  historical 
existence.  But  when  I  come  to  a  college,  a  book-store,  or  a  Eoman 
temple,  and  above  all  to  the  Palais  des  Papes  at  Avignon,  I  believe  that 
I  am  my  old  self,  not  a  whit  changed. 

I  hope  you  preach  at  Spring  Street,  in  my  absence;  and  if  the 
brethren  do  not  freely  exchange  with  Francis  and  itipley,  really  I  shall 
think  it  shameful.  I  care  not  for  myself  a  sou. 

TO   DR.    FRANCIS. 

November,  1843. 

I  heard  several  lecturers  at  the  Sorbonne — Damiron,  amongst  others. 
He  lectured  about  Gassendi.  He  looks  a  little  like  Dr.  Lamson,  and 
is  about  as  old.  He  comes  into  the  salle,  pours  his  eau  upon  his 
sucre,  and  stirs  it  up  ;  lays  an  ill-written  MS.  before  him,  looks  up  and 
says  "  Messieurs,"  then  looks  down  upon  his  paper  and  never  raises  his 
nose  from  his  notes  once  during  the  le$on.  He  nourishes  his  left  hand 
continually,  while  he  holds  on  the  text  with  his  right.  He  has  not  writ 
ten  out  his  discourse  in  full,  so  he  begins,  goes  back,  and  begins  again, 

in  almost  every  sentence.  His  talk  is  as  ragged  as  that  of ,  but 

not  half  so  rich. 

Jules  Simon  is  not  twenty-six  years  old.  I  went  to  his  salle  half  an 
hour  before  the  time  ;  it  was  half  full  then.  By-and-bye,  I  heard  a  step 
at  the  private  door,  and  the  audience  clapped  their  hands.  Then  entered 
a  finely  formed  young  man,  elegantly  dressed,  with  one  of  the  finest 
countenances  I  ever  saw — pale,  with  deep,  dark  eyes  ;  he  looks  religious, 
mystic,  and  philosophic.  He  lectured  on  Proclus  and  his  school,  011  the 
mysticism  of  Proclus,  its  origin  and  effects.  He  had  no  notes,  but 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  looked  up  towards  the  ceiling,  then  at  the 
audience,  then  began.  His  words  were  musical,  his  manner  perfect ;  it 
was  the  beau  ideal  of  lecturing.  He  did  not  quite  do  justice  to  Plato, 
for  he  went  back  to  Plato  to  trace  the  mystical  element  in  Proclus.  I 
never  heard  or  read  a  neater  exposition  of  doctrines  than  his  of  Plato's 
notions  of  God,  though  I  think  them  a  little  erroneous. 

Once  I  heard  De  Portet  lecture  on  the  Law  of  Nature  to  four  lis 
teners,  which  was  four  more  than  the  lecture  deserved.  I  went  many 
times  to  hear  some  of  the  theological  faculty,  but  the  knaves  did  not 
lecture  when  they  promised. 

I  heard  Lenormant  several  times.  He  is  the  successor,  or  substitute, 
of  Guizot,  and  is  an  able  fellow,  witty  and^wise.  In  one  lecture  he 
undertook  to  prove  the  "unity  of  humanity  "  by  demonstrating  that  all 
the  race  descended  from  one  pair.  He  said  he  could  not  prove  the  fact 
in  one  le$on,  but  it  was  a  fact  as  much  to  be  taken  for  granted  now-a- 


THEODORE   PARKER.  227 

days  as  any  of  the  admitted  truths  of  astronomy.  Then  he  pointed  out 
the  means  of  proof,  and  flourished  away  with  great  brilliancy.  Again, 
he  lectured  on  the  influence  of  Christianity  upon  the  institutions  of 
Europe.  I  heard  him  discuss  quite  ably  the  rise  and  progress  of 
asceticism  in  the  Church.  It  was  wise  and  witty,  too,  what  he  said. 
Christianity  looked  in  the  face  the  great  problems  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  the  problem  of  Eyalite,  of  Travail,  of  Fraternile.  Coenobitism, 
Asceticism,  and  Monachism  were  various  solutions,  not  the  real  solution. 
Christianity  is  yet  to  give  that  in  the  form  of  a  new  society,  for  which 
the  St.  Simonians  are  in  the  right  to  strive.  He  carried  us  off  to  the 
Thebaid,  and  gave  pictures  of  the  life  there,  quoting  from  a  translation 
of  Jerome  made  and  printed  in  the  a<re  of  Louis  XIV. :  so  he  made  a 
contrast  between  the  Christianity  of  the  Thebaid  and  that  of  Versailles. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

November  20. 

Yet,  after  all,  there  is  a  certain  unity  of  character  in  the  Frencli  that 
has  its  merit.  They  are  always  gay ;  gay  in  their  business,  gay  in 
their  religion ;  their  churches  even  have  a  style  that  is  peculiarly 
French — at  least  since  the  time  of  Delorme  all  their  architecture  has 
been  pay.  The  Frenchman  would  "dance  before  the  Lord."  Now, 
John  Bull  all  the  week  long  is  spinning  cotton,  raising  potatoes,  fatting 
oxen,  and  sending  ships  to  the  end  of  the  world,  He  has  managed 
matters  so  that  the  income  of  his  Church  is  £44,000  more  than  the 
income  of  all  the  other  Churches  of  Europe  put  together,  and  so  that 
six  per  cent,  of  his  whole  population  receives  support  from  the  public 
purse.  All  the  week  long  he  never  thinks  of  Grod,  nor  cares  for  truth 
and  righteousness  ;  but  Sunday  comes,  and  then  John  is  mighty  re 
ligious  all  at  once.  He  transports  to  Botany  Bay  a  man  who  danced 
round  a  maypole,  and  shuts  up  an  old  woman  in  jail  because  she  sold 
apples  during  the  hours  of  service  Sunday  morning.  Here  is  no  unity, 
at  the  least. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Florence,  January  28,  1844. 

The  effect  of  the  church  within — dark,  vast,  and  solemn  as  it  is — 
must  be  felt — fancied  it  cannot  be.  The  rich  music  of  more  than  a 
hundred  voices  (men's  and  no-men's),  joined  with  the  sweet  notes  of 
an  organ  placed  high  up  in  the  wall,  rises  and  falls  upon  the  ear  in 
tides  of  harmony  that  fill  the  soul  with  reverence,  with  zeal,  with 
faith,  and  waken  love  of  God,  just  as  the  south  wind  of  summer  when 
it  comes  tossing  gently  the  tops  of  the  pines.  I  love  the  music  and 
the  architecture  of  Catholicism  ;  its  doctrines,  its  rites,  and  its  general 
effect,  I  must  say,  I  hate  all  the  more  in  Europe  than  I  hated  at 
home. 

In  one  church  I  saw  a  great  crowd  of  people  about  a  certain  door,  so 
I  drew  near  and  found  the  avviso  setting  forth  that  all  persons  who  on 
that  day  visited  a  particular  shrine  of  the  Virgin  should  have  plenary 
indulgence  for  forty  days.  I  went  with  the  multitude,  so  I  need  not 
fear  for  the  next  six  weeks.  Indeed,  the  Pope  offers  plenary  indul 
gence  for  all  sins — past,  present,  and  to  come — to  all  such  as  attend 


228  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

five  sermons  that  are  to  be  preached  in  Holy  Week  at  Home  this  very 
year.  I  shall  hear  not  only  five  but  fifty,  if  possible,  and  so  shall  be 
able  to  "  indulge "  you  and  eight  others  when  I  get  home,  and 
save  them  by  vicarious  atonement ;  it  will  be  the  height  of  mercy  to 
do  so. 

****** 

Here,  amongst  the  mummeries,  they  serve  God  by  ringing  bells.  I 
wonder  no  one  ever  thought  of  doing  the  thing  by  firing  cannon.  It 
seems  to  me  to  be  peculiarly  proper  for  a  military  people,  and  they 
might  find  warrant  for  it  in  Scripture  (as  for  all  other  things),  only  by 
adopting  a  slight  emendation  of  the  common  text,  "  Praise  Him  with 
psaltery,"  reading  (by  conjecture)  "  with  saltpetre."  Pray  suggest  it 
to  Dr.  JSToyes. 

****** 

There  is  one  thing  which  I  always  admired  in  the  idea  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  to  wit,  its  democracy.  It  (ideally  speaking)  honours 
personal  qualities  alone,  the  real  virtues  of  real  men,  the  apostles,  the 
saints  (who  are  not  honoured  for  accidental  qualities,  as  wealth  and 
fame,  but  for  what  are  reckoned  sterling  merits  of  their  own),  the 
prophets  (of  past  times),  and  Christ  himself.  The  lives  of  these  men 
are  immortalized  in  stone  and  brass,  and  great  men  and  kings  are  told 
to  kneel  down  before  their  relics,  or  their  images,  for  nothing  is  so 
great  as  goodness.  You  feel  this  idea  becoming  a  sentiment  in  a 
Catholic  church,  and  it  buds  out  towards  an  action,  and  you  say, 
"  Fools  and  blind !  damned  fools  and  stone-blind !  Why  not  go  and 
do  likewise,  honouring  virtue  by  action,  not  with  brass  and  talk  ?"  If  a 
real  man  were  to  come  and  stand  in  these  old  churches,  over  the 
graves  of  the  noble,  with  these  images  of  the  holy  and  inspired  before 
the  eyes  of  all  his  hearers,  it  seems  to  me  he  might  make  every  stone 
in  Santa  Croce  ring  again  with  eloquence,  and  every  heart  burn  with 
love  towards  man,  and  faith  towards  God.  Yet,  perhaps,  he  would  feel 
that  a  marble  temple,  profuse  with  silver  and  gold  and  precious  stones, 
and  cunning  handiwork  more  precious  than  either,  was  not  the  place  in 
which  to  preach  humility,  the  greatness  of  the  soul,  the  nothingness  of 
life's  poor  distinctions.  No :  the  marble  devils  would  grin  at  him  from 
the  arches,  and  he  would  fare  forth  into  the  free  air  and  predict  the 
destruction  of  that  temple. 

Oh,  is  the  time  ever  to  come  when  men  shall  be  content  to  honour 
God  by  keeping  His  laws,  being  good  and  doing  good,  when  they  shall 
know  and  feel  that  the  life  of  heaven  is  the  real  service  ?  The  longer  I 
live  the  more  my  reverence  for  the  real  God  and  the  real  religion — yes, 
and  the  real  preacher  of  it — continues  to  deepen,  widen,  and  make  my 
heart  throb ;  but  at  the  same  time  my  abhorrence  of  all  false  gods  and 
false  religions,  and  false  preachers,  too,  waxes  stronger  and  stronger. 
I  know  while  men  are  as  now,  there  must  be  such  things  ;  but  I  know 
also  that  if  men  are  ever  to  be  made  better,  such  things  must  be 
warred  on,  not  with  earthly  weapons,  as  cunning  and  spite  (the  Devil 
will  beat  all  the  saints  with  them),  but  with  swords  of  celestial  temper, 
and  celestial  keenness,  too. 

I  have  now  had  five  months'  leisure  to  consider  my  own  position.  I 
feel  all  its  melancholiness,  the  severity  of  the  task  laid  on  me  j  but  I 


THEODORE   PARKER.  229 

feel,  too,  that  I  must  <m,  on ;  that  the  time  of  rest  will  never  come  in 
my  day,  and  for  me ;  but,  so  long  as  I  live,  that  I  must  war  against 
the  false  gods  and  their  priests  as  false.  I  have  done  little  hitherto ; 
if  health  continues  I  may,  perhaps,  do  somewhat.  I  am  grateful  for 
this  opportunity  to  pause  in  the  middle  of  my  course  and  see  where  I 
am  going.  I  have  done  wrong  things,  no  doubt ;  but,  the  more  I  think 
of  it,  the  more  the  general  tendency  of  my  path  seems  to  me  the  true 
one,  and  the  less  do  I  feel  an  inclination  to  turn  away  or  to  stand 
still. 

Let  me  leave  this  theme.  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  remem 
bering  me  in  absence,  and  not  the  less  for  the  good  words  that  you  are 
speaking  to  the  few  at  Spring  Street.  Do  tell  me  if  "  the  brethren  " 
exchange  with  you,  and  who ;  what  Ripley  is  doing,  and  what  the 
Examiner  does  with  that  good,  sound,  modest  man,  Lamson,  at  its  head. 
Do  you  know  all  his  worth  ?  He  is  a  noble  fellow. 

I  am  sorry  you  should  say  what  you  do  about  yourself.  It  is  not 
given  to  many  men  to  taste  or  even  see  the  fruits  of  their  labour. 
You  ought  to  have  the  consciousness  of  having  done  more  than  any 
clergyman  of  your  age,  in  planting  principles  that  will  bear  fruit  for 
mankind.  If  you  continue  at  Cambridge  a  few  years,  I  know  the 
result  will  be  to  impress  on  the  Unitarian  sect  the  spirit  of  thoughtful 
and  serious  inquiry,  of  the  greatest  individuality  conjoined  with  the 
widest  toleration. 

You  speak  about  your  sister's  *  book.  I  read  some  of  the  "  Letters  " 
as  they  appeared  from  time  to  time,  and  on  the  passage  I  read  the 
book  anew,  and  with  increased  delight.  She  has  spoken  nobly  a  noble 
word,  and  may  God  bless  her  more  and  more !  It  is  a  great  thing  to 
speak  words  that  sink  into  the  nation's  heart.  It  is  not  every  passing 
cloud  that  rains  drops  into  the  sea  which  shall  become  pearls ;  it  is 
only  the  dews  of  Heaven  which  can  do  that. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Rome,  March  18,  1844. 

MY  DEAB  FBJEND, — I  owe  you  many  thanks  for  all  your  kindness  in 
writing  to  me  when  I  am  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land.  You  tell  me  good 
tidings  also.  I  am  rejoiced  to  know  of  the  doings  of  Kipley,  Channing, 
and  Brownson.  But  I  hear  that  the  latter  has  done  what  he  advised 
the  Unitarians  to  do,  "re-establish  the  Boston  Quarterly."  I  suppose 
he  will  devote  it  to  the  overturn  of  the  principles  established  in  the 
first  series.  I  rejoice  very  much  in  the  Fourier  movement,  not  that  I 
accept  the  statements  of  F.,  but  because  I  think  our  present  form  of 
society  is  irrational  and  unchristian  ;  that  society  makes  criminals,  and 
then  hangs  them;  that  trade  (in  the  main)  is  robbery,  and  "justice" 
catches  only  at  petty  rogues — never  forgiving  their  offences,  gradually 
makes  them  worse,  and  at  last  hangs  them.  Men  are  born  in  Boston 
into  a  condition  far  worse  than  that  of  the  Esquimaux.  Strong  men 
build  their  castles  by  the  hands  of  the  weak  and  out  of  the  property  of 
the  weak.  The  feudalism  of  money  is  not  so  bad  as  the  feudalism  of 

*  Mrs.  Lydia  Maria  Child,  -who  had  just  published  the  first  volume  of  her  brilliantly 
written  "  Letters  from  New  York,"  which  was  followed  by  another  of  like  excellence. 


230  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

birth,  nor  that  so  bad  as  the  feudalism  of  the  sword,  but  too  bad  to  be 
borne  in  a  Christian  land,  it  seems  to  me.  I  do  not  believe  the  Social 
ists  see  very  clearly  what  they  would  be  at,  yet  they  will  help  open 
men's  eyes,  it  seems  to  me.  Three  things  are  needed  to  make  a  com 
plete  revolution — the  sentiment,  the  idea,  the  action.  I  fancy  their 
sentiment  is  not  far  from  right,  but  if  their  idea  be  wrong,  so  must 
their  action  be.  I  see  no  cure  for  the  evil  but  this,  to  give  each  indi 
vidual  clear  views  of  the  right,  and  then  leave  it  to  him  to  do  what  he 
thinks  best.  A  complex  evil  has  a  simple  cure,  it  seems  to  me.  Eng 
land  is  the  richest  country  in  the  world,  perhaps,  but  that  in  which 
there  is  the  most  misery.  It  is  the  paradise  of  the  rich,  the  purgatory 
of  the  wise,  and  the  hell  of  the  poor.  In  Italy  there  is  much  begging, 
but  less  starving.  One  million  of  the  English  are  fine  men  ;  what  are 
the  nineteen  millions  ? 

Now,  we,  the  Yankee  nation,  are  going  in  just  the  same  way  as 
the  English,  and,  unless  we  change  our  whole  system,  radically,  in 
regard  to  the  pursuit  of  wealth  and  the  pursuit  of  power,  we  shall 
come  to  just  the  same  result,  and  have  the  Christian  feudalism  of  gold 
in  Boston  as  in  London.  But  of  this  when  we  meet  face  to  face. 

I  think  I  shall  become  a  Catholic,  that  I  may  be  Cardinal,  and  will 
come  to  Boston,  in  my  red  coach,  with  three  footmen  on  behind — that 
is  the  way  they  ride  here — and  will  preach  a  sermon  on  humility  and 
contempt  of  this  world,  and  assure  the  people  at  the  end  that  there  is 
no  salvation  out  of  the  Church.  Here  I  have  seen  not  a  few  relics  of 
the  saints,  and  other  worthies,  enough  to  convert  a  heathen.  Let  me 
name  them :  the  chains  of  St.  Peter ;  those  of  Paul ;  the  column  Christ 
leaned  on  when  twelve  years  old ;  the  veil  which  burst  asunder  when  he 
gave  up  the  ghost ;  the  actual  well  of  Samaria  (the  woman  of  Samaria, 
I  suppose,  is  lost — but,  enough  could  be  found  here  to  which  the  words 
of  the  Fourth  Gospel  would  apply  just  as  well)  ;  the  twenty-eight  steps 
of  Pilate's  house,  down  which  Christ  was  led  to  be  crucified  ;  and  a  piece 
of  the  true  Cross.  Besides  these,  they  have  the  heads  of  Peter  and  Paul. 
I  wish  they  were  on  some  of  their  shoulders.  I  wonder  that  they  have 
not  the  original  "  tables  of  the  law  "  written  by  the  finger  of  Jehovah, 
which  Moses  broke,  or  the  garments  which  Elohim  made  for  Adam 
and  Eve. 

They  tell  a  pleasant  story  about  St.  Peter.  A  persecution  once 
broke  out  while  that  Apostle  was  at  Borne.  He  did  as  at  Jerusalem — 
cut  and  run.  But,  as  he  was  getting  towards  Ostia  with  might  and 
main,  down  comes  the  Lord  Jesus  from  heaven,  and  alights  on  the 
ground  before  him.  The  people  can  still  show  the  dent  where  his  feet 
lighted  on  the  flint.  The  footprints  are  actually  to  be  seen  at  this  very 
day,  marks  of  the  toes  and  all !  Then,  too,  I  have  been  into  the  prison 
where  Paul  was  confined — the  famous  Tullianum.  They  tell  you  that 
Peter  was  there  also;  and  point  out  a  spring  that  started  up  miracu 
lously  on  a  certain  occasion,  and  Peter  baptized  forty-nine  B-oman 
soldiers  in  it,  all  of  whom  became  martyrs.  Apart  from  the  murmurs 
of  tradition,  it  makes  a  man's  heart  beat  a  little  to  stand  in  the  prison 
where  there  is  little  room  to  doubt  that  Paul  was  once  held  as  a  felon. 
It  carries  you  back  over  1800  years — to  the  time  when  Christian  was  a 
name  of  contempt,  and  cost  a  man  his  life.  I  went  to  the  place  "  where 
Paul  dwelt  in  his  own  hired  house>"  &c.  You  forget  the  Church,  the 


THEODORE   PARKER,  231 

Pope,  the  Cardinals,  and  think  of  that  man  who  found  Christianitj 
the  faith  of  a  few  poor  fishermen,  and  left  it  flourishing  in  all  the  great 
cities  of  the  world.  I  never  felt  so  near  the  Apostle  as  at  Rome.  I 
have  been  to  the  Catacombs,  which  interest  me  more  than  almost  any 
thing  at  Rome.  You  know  their  history,  of  course.  Here  I  saw  proofs 
enough  that  some  of  the  alleged  "corruptions  of  Christianity"  date 
back  to  107  A.D.  The  worship  of  the  Virgin  can  be  graced  nearly  as  far ; 
that  of  the  invocation  of  saints  for  the  dead  quite  to  that  very  year,  I  think. 
Indeed,  if  I  were  an  Episcopalian,  I  must  needs  become  a  Catholic.  You 
find  the  ceremony  of  saying  mass,  as  at  present,  pretty  distinctly  traced 
back  to  the  beginning  of  the  second  century ;  and  the  Catholics  men 
tion  a  symbol  of  transubstantiation  which  shows  that  it  was  well  known 
in  the  second  century,  and  pretty  early  too.  In  the  Catacombs  there 
are  chapels,  of  course ;  in  the  chapels  are  frescoes  painted  in  the  second 
century  (at  the  latest,  in  the  early  part  of  it),  representing  the  miracle 
at  Cana,  in  such  conjunction  with  the  saying  Mass,  that  it  shows  a 
distinct  allusion  to  the  transformation  of  the  bread  and  wine  into  the 
body  and  blood  of  Christ ;  at  least,  they  say  so.  Of  course,  /  should 
laugh  at  any  argument  built  on  such  premises,  even  if  I  admitted  the 
premises ;  but  many  would  be  overwhelmed  by  it.  In  the  tombs  you 
find  the  bottle  of  blood,  which  marks  a  martyr  who  died  a  bloody 
death ;  and  often  the  instrument  of  his  martyrdom,  still  sticking  in  his 
bones,  or  laid  beside  him.  Some  of  the  Catacombs  have  not  yet  been 
explored,  as  they  have  been  filled  with  earth  ever  since  the  time  of 
Constantine  (I  think),  which  an  inundation  of  the  Tiber  deposited 
there.  Therefore,  here  is  no  chance  for  saying,  "  The  monks  of  the 
Middle  Ages  did  it !  "  as  some  have  often  said.  I  should  like  to  sit  in 
this  city  of  graves,  and  read  the  Fathers.  Here,  in  Eome,  is  one 
Father  Marchi,  a  priest,  who  has  devoted  his  life  to  the  study  of  the 
Catacombs.  He  went  with  us,  and  explained  everything ;  besides  that, 
he  took  me  through  a  fine  collection  of  Christian  antiquities  in  the 
Roman  College  (the  great  priest  establishment),  and  showed  me 
curiosities  without  stint,  relating  to  the  early  Christians,  bottles  of 
dried  blood  of  the  martyrs,  instruments  of  torture,  images  of  Christ, 
of  the  Virgin,  &c.,  &c. 

Mr.  Shaw  sent  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  young  American 
Catholic  here.  He  introduced  me  to  several  Catholics,  eminent  men 
and  capital  scholars,  to  a  D.D.,  a  Bishop,  and  a  Cardinal.  I  have 
talked  a  good  deal  with  them  about  their  faith,  though  I  have  not  dis 
puted,  but  only  questioned.  I  feared  that  I  might  have  sometimes 
done  them  injustice,  bub  I  think  I  have  not.  I  have  found  them  uni 
versally  kind,  perfectly  free  from  cant ;  they  don't  draw  down  the 
corners  of  their  mouth,  nor  talk  through  their  nose,  nor  roll  up  the 
whites  of  their  eyes,  and  say  "0-6-6-6 !"  There  is  much  about  the  Catholic 
Church  that  I  always  liked — its  music,  architecture,  paintings,  statues. 
Besides,  there  is  a  long  list  of  saints,  whom  I  truly  reverence,  enrolled 
on  its  calendar.  The  Church  is  democratic  (in  the  good  s^ense)  in 
appointing  its  saints.  None  are  made  saints  except  for  personal 
qualities  ;  not  for  wealth,  or  birth,  or  power,  but  goodness.  What  if 
they  do  pray  to  the  saints,  as  the  Protestants  say,  or  through  them,  as 
they  say  ?  The  true  God,  I  take  it,  would  as  lief  be  called  St.  Cecilia 
as  Jehovah ;  and  a  true  prayer  must  be  acceptable  to  the  true  God.  I 


232  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

told  a  Jesuit  Father  so,  the  other  day  ;  but  he  said  that  was  an  odious 
doctrine — it  justified  idolatry. 

I  love  to  hear  Bishop  Baggs  talk  about  the  Catholic  doctrine.  He  is 
one  of  the  most  learned  men  in  Rome,  and  one  of  the  gentlest  and 
kindest  of  men.  I  love  him  much.  The  Catholic  Church  practically, 
I  think,  cultivates  the  feelings  of  reverence,  of  faith,  of  gentleness, 
better  than  the  Protestant  Churches ;  but  I  can't  think  it  affects  the 
conscience  so  powerfully,  and  1  know  that  at  present  it  does  not  appeal 
to  the  reason  or  practical  good  sense.  How  true  it  is  that  it  takes  the 
whole  Church  to  preach  the  whole  G-ospel ! — but  few  men  will  see  it  is  so. 
One  can't  see  beyond  Unitarianism ;  another  will  not  budge  beyond 
the  "Westminster  Catechism,  and  here  a  whole  Church  refuses  to  go  an 
inch  beyond  the  decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent.  However,  while 
Bishop  B.  says,  "  Out  of  the  Catholic  Church  is  no  salvation,"  he  adds, 
"  but  none  is  damned  except  for  his  own  fault,  and  many  may  be  in  the  Soul 
of  the  Catholic  Church  who  are  not  in  its  Body."  God  only  knows  who  !  I 
wish  I  could  think  better  of  the  priests  here.  A  "  divinity  student," 
an  American  neophyte,  said  he  had  known  hundreds  of  priests,  and 
riever  one  who  had  defiled  .himself  with  woman  ! — that  they  were  far 
purer  in  all  respects  than  the  Protestant  clergy !  But  a  Roman,  also  a 
Catholic,  said  that  about  one-tenth  were  pure,  conscientious  men ;  the 
rest — here  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said,  "  The  walls  have  ears !" 
About  a  year  ago,  in  a  conventual  school  for  young  ladies,  seven  of 
them  were  unexpectedly  found  in  the  same  state  with  Rhea  Sylvia,  but 
in  this  case  the  deus  ex  machind  was  a  priest.  I  asked  a  guide  de  place 
one  day  about  the  priesthood.  He  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  in  bad 
French,  gave  me  an  awful  account  of  them. 

Here  each  person  is  obliged  to  take  the  Communion  once  a  year,  and 
before  the  Communion  to  confess  and  perform  any  penance  that  is 
enjoined  :  if  they  refuse  they  are  excommunicated !  This,  of  course,  is 
adapted  to  make  hypocrites  of  bad  men,  and  martyrs  of  good  ones. 
Then,  besides,  here  is  an  inquisition ;  if  a  Catholic  be  found  uttering 
heresies  he  is  clapped  into  the  inquisition,  when  "  Heaven  help  him  !"  as 
Uncle  Toby  said.  He  is  not  tortured,  but  only  confined.  I  am  told 
there  are  about  400  or  500  in  it  now.  It  is  close  to  St.  Peter's.  They 
don't  prevent  freedom  of  thought :  a  man  may  think  what  he  pleases,  but 

as  Dr. said,  "  What  is  the  use  of  talkin'  on't?"    A  rigid  political 

censorship  is  exercised  over  the  press.  Austria  has  a  voice  in  that  and 
a  theological  censorship.  English  newspapers  are  often  stopped  at  the 
Post-office  because  they  contain  incendiary  matter.  If  our  friend  the 
Heaven-stormer,  were  to  come  here,  he  would  find  his  Quarterly  in 
the  "  Prohibitorum  "  directly,  and  himself — anywhere  but  at  ease,  I  am 
thinking.  If  I  wanted  to  convert  a  fop  to  Christianity,  I  think  I  would 
send  him  to  Rome  ;  but  if  I  wanted  to  put  a  philosopher  in  the  Catholic 
Church,  I  would  send  him  anywhere  but  to  Rome.  Nowhere  is  there 
more  to  disgust  a  thinking  man  with  its  doctrines  or  its  practical  effects. 
However,  here  are  also  the  bright  ornaments  of  the  Church,  such  men 
as  Cardinal  Odescalchi,  such  women  as  the  late  Princess  Borghese,  both 
of  whom  spent  enormous  sums  of  money  and  their  whole  lives  in  works 
of  mercy.  I  really  believe,  that  in  no  place  and  no.  Church  are  such 
persons  more  honored  than  here,  in  the  Church  at  Rome.  "When  the 
Princess  was  to  be  buried,  500  young  men  of  Rome  took  off  the  horses 


THEODORE   PARKER.  233 

from  the  hearse,  and  themselves  drew  the  body  to  the  grave.  One  day 
they  will  make  both  her  and  the  Cardinal  saints.  Their  doctrine  ofthe 
Communion  of  Saints  is  beautiful  to  the  feelings,  not  like  the  cold  wordy 
rubric  of  the  Protestants.  Here,  at  Borne,  all  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
priests.  Over  a  lying-in  hospital  I  saw  "  B.C.A."*  The  irony  of  nature 
is  a  little  sharp  sometimes !  Here,  lottery  tickets  are  sold  by  autho 
rity  ;  the  B.C.A.  manages  that  affair  also,  and  once  a  fortnight  there  is 
a  drawing,  and  the  apostolical  functionary  appears  in  a  balcony,  and  the 
list  of  numbers  is  read  off  in  his  presence  to  the  people.  You  go  to  the 
Colosseum  ;  in  the  centre  of  it  is  a  cross,  and  a  little  tablet  states  that 
everybody  who  kisses  that  shall  receive  plenary  indulgence  for  200 
days ;  another  at  the  entrance  states  that  indulgence  for  a  year  and 
forty  days  shall  be  given  to  all  who  kiss  that !  In  a  beautiful  church, 
that  of  Sta.  Maria  Maggiore,  is  preserved  the  portrait  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  by  St.  Luke.  It  is  in  a  beautiful  chapel,  built  by  the  Borghese 
family,  and  a  Bull  of  the  Pope,  in  marble,  on  the  wall,  tells,  that  if  mass 
be  said  in  that  chapel  for  any  of  the  faithful  who  are  dead,  and  have 
died  penitent,  they  shall  be  forthwith  delivered  from  purgatory  quibus- 
cunque  non  obstantibus. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  what  is  the  present  condition  of  the  Catholic 
Church;  they  are  certainly  making  great  exertions  to  extend  their 
faith  in  all  parts  of  the  world;  the  present  Pope  is  a  pious  and 
excellent  man,  I  should  judge,  one  that  fears  Grod  and  loves  mankind, 
believing  himself  fallible  as  a  man,  but  infallible  as  Head  of  the 
Church,  and  his  character  has  had  an  influence  on  the  Church.  I 
should  be  sorry  to  see  the  Catholic  Church  fall  now,  for  which  of  the 
Protestant  sects  could  take  its  place  ?  Perhaps  it  will  outlive  them 
all,  for  there  is  a  terrible  unity  in  its  system,  and  it  holds  to  its  first 
principles  with  remorseless  fidelity,  while  the  Protestants  feel  that 
their  principle  of  sole  reliance  on  the  Holy  Scriptures  as  the  only  and 
sufficient  word  of  Grod  and  rule  of  faith,  is  felt  by  many  to  be  false, 
and  known  to  be  so  by  some,  and  yet  they  will  not  admit  it,  and 
fall  back  on  absolute  religion,  taking  all  tradition  (scriptural  or  non- 
scriptural)  for  what  it  is  worth. 

But  I  will  not  annoy  you  any  more  with  such  talk.  Let  me  go  to 
other  things.  And,  before  I  forget  it,  Father  Marchi  is  publishing  a 
work  describing  the  Catacombs — not  merely  the  old  but  those  hitherto 
inedited ;  the  work  will  correct  the  errors  of  former  writers  on  that 
subject,  and  will  be  a  valuable  contribution  to  the  history  of  art,  and 
still  more  to  that  of  Christianity  in  a  period  for  which  we  possess 
unfortunately  but  few  documents.  Cannot  it  be  got  for  the  College 
Library  ?  When  finished  it  will  cost  about  60  dollars. 

Shall  I  describe  to  you  the  wonders  of  Rome  ?  No,  not  I ;  you 
must  come  to  know  them.  I  went  up  to  the  top  of  the  Capitol  soon  as 
I  got  to  Borne.  I  saw  one  mountain  in  the  distance,  standing  by  itself, 
and  said  to  a  friend,  "  Videsne  ut  alia  stet"  &c.,  for  then  it  was  covered 
with  snow.  Below  me  were  the  Seven  Hills,  not  prominent,  but  made 
out  with  a  little  difficulty  ;  the  Forum,  a  dirty  irregular  oblong  space 
where  the  countrymen  leave  their  carts  and  oxen  to  bait.  The 
Colosseum  is  close  at  hand  ;  the  ruins  of  the  Palace  of  the  CaBsara 
cover  the  Palatine,  and  an  Englishman  has  a  house  on  the  very  top. 
*  Romanum  Collegium,  Apostolicum» 


234  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

The  greater  part  of  old  Borne,  the  Eome  of  the  Bepublie,  is  covered 
with  vineyards  and  gardens ! — cabbages  and  artichokes  grow  where  the 
pride  of  the  Caesars  once  held  its  dwelling-place !  Alas  for  Borne ! 
She  is  the  queen  dowager  of  the  nations.  Her  power  has  passed  away ; 
but  a  shadowy  respect  is  still  paid  to  her  name,  and  the  recollection  of 
her  greatness  yet  awes  the  world.  I  have  studied  the  relics  of  Pagan 
Borne,  but  I  cannot  tell  where  it  ends  and  Christian  Borne  begins. 
When  they  baptized  the  pebple,  they  baptized  their  institutions ;  alas, 
I  feel  that  I  am  in  old  Pagan  Borne  still !  I  was  presented  to  His 
Holiness  the  other  day.  He  looks  mild  and  benevolent,  has  written 
some  books,  and  is  thought  a  clever  man  by  nature,  apart  from  his 
infallibility. 

Norton's  book  is  as  I  fancied,  but  does  not  he  attack  the  authenti 
city  of  the  books  of  Moses  ?  How  is  the  Examiner  in  the  hands  of 
L.  and  G.  r*  Bemember  me  to  Sears  when  you  see  him  and  Stetson. 
Ever  yours,  good  bye,  T.  P. 

All  your  books  shall  be  diligently  sought  for  and  duly  forwarded.  I 
have  made  arrangements  with  a  house  at  Florence  for  the  purchasing 
Italian  books.  Write  again  soon,  tell  mo  all  the  personal  gossip  and 
literary  and  theological  news. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Berlin,  May  26,  1844. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Men,  in  respect  to  their  mobility,  or  passive 
faculty  of  being  moved,  may  be  divided  into  three  classes,  viz. :  1,  the 
ductile,  who  may  be  led  by  the  hand ;  2,  the  tractile,  who  can  be  drawn 
by  the  nose  ;  and,  3,  the  projectile,  who  can  be  kicked  by  the  part  which 
is  wanting  in  cherubs,  but  fully  developed  in  school-boys — in  short,  by 
what  the  "  Secretary  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,"  com 
menting  upon  Moses,  called  a  retiring  glory*  Well,  in  Italy,  the  Pope 
thinks  the  people  consist  only  of  the  tractile  and  projectile  classes,  so  he 
sets  on  the  tractors  (the  priests)  and  the  projectors  (the  soldiers)  to 
conduct  affairs.  In  Austria,  the  Government  proceeds  on  the  supposi 
tion  that  all  are  projectile,  and,  therefore,  has  soldiers  everywhere,  and 
gives  its  faithful  subjects  a  sight  of  its  cannons  in  every  little  village. 
At  home  there  are  a  few  who  think  that  mankind  are  ductile,  but  the 
political  partisans  suppose  all  the  nation  to  be  merely  tractile.  Nobody, 
but  General  Jackson  and  George  III.  ever  thought  we  were  projectile. 

And  here  I  am,  in  the  heart  of  Germany,  in  the  very  spot  where  the 
"  Geist  des  Deutschlands  "  culminates.  I  have  wished  you  were  with 
me  a  thousand  times  here  in  Europe,  but  never  more  than  now,  for 
none  deserves  so  much  to  come,  and  none  would  enjoy  it  more,  for  you 
have  the  many-sidedness  that  receives,  the  magnanimity  that  welcomes, 
and  the  soul  that  appreciates  all  that  is  good. 

Excuse  me  for  saying  this  to  you,  for  I  forgot  myself  and  the  limits 

*  "  One  day,"  said  Dr. ,  "  I  went  out  to  Cambridge  as  a  delegate  for  the  Society 

for  promoting  Theological  Knowledge,  to  see  what  Dr.  Palfrey  was  doing.  I  had  my 
doubts  of  his  fitness  for  the  station,  but  I  went  into  the  lecture-room.  He  was  expound 
ing  Moses  (at  first  I  felt  like  Apostle  Philip  when  he  saw  one  reading  Esaias).  He  took 
that  very  difficult  passage,  'Thou  shalt  not  look  upon  my  face,1  &c.,  and  went  on  trans 
lating,  'But  a  retiring  glory  shalt  thou  see.'  I  confess  I  felt  ashamed  of  my  doubts, 
and  was  myself  instructed." 


THEODOEE    PARKER.  235 

of  epistolography  for  a  moment.  How  you  would  riot  in  the  Billiothek 
arid  smile  at  the  philosophical  casuistry  one  hears  lectured  forth,  and 
look  with  wonder  on  Hengsteriberg  discovering  the  Trinity  in  the  plural 
form  of  Eiohim  (and  also  in  Behemoth  I  suppose).  Berlin  is  so  full  of 
great  men  that  nobody  looks  at  one  more  than  the  Parisians  look  at 
the  giraffe.  I  believe  it  is  rather  a  disguise  here  to  be  a  great  man. 
You  will  say,  in  your  wicked  way,  that  is  so  everywhere,  and  in  your 
"Unitarian  way"  will  cite  the  case  of  Jesus  and  Socrates  (nobody 
but  the  Unitarians  ever  mention  them  in  the  same  week  you  know) 
as  examples;  that  is  true,  but  here  the  great  men  are  so  common 

that  if ever  were  to  come   here,  he  would  be  thought  a  very 

common-place  sort  of  man,  fit  only  to  eat  beef  and  cream-cakes.  But 
revenons  a  nos  moutons,  to  the  great  men  again.  There  are  180  of  them 
connected  with  the  University,  not  counting  the  Grimms,  who  would 
make  a  score ;  then  there  are  Crown  Princes,  and  Fursten,  and  Erz- 
herzogen,  and  that  sort  of  vermin,  in  any  quantity.  I  always  thought 
the  German  philosophers  were  lean,  pale  sort  of  men  who  "  on  the 
barren  heath,"  as  Gothe  has  it,  did  nothing  but  think,  in  short  did 
nothing  but  think  of  thinking.  It  is  not  so  ;  they  look  sleek,  well- 
fed,  and  cosy  as  other  men.  Drs.  Twesten  and  Marheineke  are  plump 
as  partridges.  Indeed,  I  have  not  seen  but  one  lean  man  in  Berlin, 
and  he  was  a  Yankee.  I  heard  a  professor  the  other  day  (a  sleek 
man  of  forty,  with  a  great  forehead,  and  great  white  teeth,  and  great 
black  whiskers  tied  under  his  chin)  lecture  an  hour  or  less  on  Dagesh 
forte,  making  a  slight  digression  upon  Dagesh  lene,  and  an  episode  upon 
Chappik.  I  thought  of  your  philosophical  colleague  and  wished  he 
had  my  seat.  He  would  have  gone  up  in  raptures,  and  have  been 
(what  has  happened  to  Job  and  the  Prophets)  translated!  But  here 
I  am  telling  you  about  German  affairs  and  not  saying  a  word  about 
how  I  got  here.  Well :  then  we  rode  four  days  and  four  nights  in  a 
diligence  to  Bologna,  from  Eome,  and  then  went  to  Venice — which,  by 
the  way,  is  such  a  city  as  Neptune  might  have  dreamed  of  when  a 
little  drunk  with  ambrosia  (and  Amphitrite) — thence  to  Verona,  stop 
ping  at  classical  Padua ;  thence  two  hundred  miles  up  the  valley  of  the 
Adige,  through  the  Tyrol  to  Innspruck.  It  was  delightful  to  get 
away  from  the  dark  wily  character  of  the  Italians  to  the  open  faces 
and  blue  eyes  of  the  Germans.  You  feel  that  you  are  in  Deutschland 
very  soon.  The  horses  are  well  fed,  the  asses  disappear  and  the 
priests  ;  the  women  are  seen  in  abundance.  In  France  and  Italy  the 
femme  de  chambre  was  almost  always  a  garqon ;  there  is  a  certain  safety 
in  employing  these.  But  soon  as  we  came  to  Germany,  we  found 
some  nice  girls  to  make  your  bed,  move  the  table,  &c.,  girls  with  great 
open  blue  eyes,  rosy  cheeks,  and  well-developed  forms.  But,  alas !  I  am 
afraid  that  the  virtue  of  the  Germans  is  not  just  what  old  Roman 
Tacitus  says  it  was  in  his  day.  However,  some  of  the  Grermans  say  it 
was  peu  de  chose  even  then,  and  be  painted  an  ideal  and  no  actual 
people  solely  to  shame  the  shabby  Romans  and  their  women. 

We  went  from  Innspruck  to  Munich,  saw  many  festivities — for  the 
King  of  Bavaria  had  just  given  a  daughter  to  the  son  of  the  Erzherzog 
Carl  of  Austria,  who  in  his  day  is  to  be  Erzherzog.  Not  only  that ;  a 
wretched  son  of  the  said  King  of  Bavaria  was  just  married  to  the 
pretty  daughter  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany;  the  poor  girl  was 


236  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

given  away  in  her  cradle,  and  when  she  grew  up  had  the  audacity  to 
love  the  Due  D'Aumale,  but  married  the  stupid  Bavarian  none  the  less, 
for  princes  no  more  want  love  in  their  wedlock  than  water  in  their 
wine. 

This  same  Bavarian  and  his  Tuscan  wife  came  from  Italy  at  .the  same 
time  with  ourselves,  so  we  also  rode  through  their  triumphal  arches,  and 
heard  the  music  intended  for  them.  Prom  Munich  we  went  to  Ratisbon, 
saw  its  lions,  Kepler's  monument  amongst  others,  the  famous  Valhalla 
— you  know  all  about  it,  I  have  no  doubt,  and  that  Luther  has  no  bust 
among  the  heroes  of  Germany,  though  the  Stolbergs  have  a  place  in  the 
national  temple.  Then  we  went  down  the  Danube  in  a  steamer  to 
Vienna.  Two  beautiful  days  we  passed  there  on  that  majestic  river. 
The  spring  was  just  calling  out  the  individualities  of  the  trees :  we  had 
all  the  varieties  of  scenery  conceivable,  from  bustling  towns  to  lonely 
castles  (so-called  by  men,  by  God  rollers  dens),  and  mountains  still 
covered  with  primeval  forests.  I  expected  to  meet  old  Armenius  or 
Attila  at  the  very  least.  The  Archduke  Charles  was  in  the  same  boat 
with  my  humble  self,  and  a  small  boat  it  was,  too,  to  contain  two  such 
great  men,  and  we  had,  of  course,  all  sorts  of  honours  paid  to  us,  as  we 
went  along.  At  Vienna  we  saw  the  lions,  Von  Hammer  Purgstall 
amongst  them,  and  then  went  to  Prague.  I  saw  John  Huss's  house.  A 
Schneidermeister  (Boss-tailor),  lives  in  it  now,  and  sundry  mantua-makers, 
wine-dealers,  &c. ;  the  famous  university,  the  grave  of  Tycho  Brahe  ; 
and  the  place  where  John  of  JN'epomuck  was  thrown  off  the  bridge  into 
the  river.  It  is  a  sacred  place  now,  and  John  is  the  patron  of  bridges 
— a  pretty  piece  of  irony  that.  We  saw  the  famous  Judenstadt  and  the 
old  burial-ground  of  the  Jews.  I  don't  know  that  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob  are  not  buried  here — perhaps  Noah  and  Adam  (Dr.  Noyes 
can  tell),  were  the  place  old  enough.  The  Hebrew  boy,  who  shows  the 
place  and  reads  the  Rabbinical  inscriptions  into  most  uncouth  Bohemian 
German  showed  me  a  gravestone  for  the  year  600  A.D.  !  I  believe  all 
that  the  Jews  tell  me,  and  they  have  not  lost  their  national  peculiarity. 
In  old  times,  if  a  Hebrew  were  asked  for  a  truth,  he  told  a  story  (at 
Venice,  now,  " parola  Elrea"  means  a  lie).  I  never  see  a  Jew  but  I 
think  of  Moses,  and  Noah,  and  Baal,  and  Balaam.  (By  the  way, 
Balaam  is  the  only  saint  the  Romans  have  taken  out  of  the  Old  Testa 
ment.)  I  don't  feel  at  all  anxious  to  convert  them  to  the  popular  form 
of  Christianity,  for  I  think  the  nonsense  of  the  Rabbis  is  nearly  as  good 
as  the  nonsense  of  the  Fathers,  schoolmen,  and  doctors  of  divinity.  To 
real  Christianity,  God  send  that  all  the  world  may  be  converted,  though 
it  is  just  what  I  think  the  above-mentioned  three  classes  know  little 
about. 

From  Prague  we  went  to  Dresden  down  the  Elbe ;  a  beautiful  river 
it  is,  too,  with  Bohemian  villages  and  robber's  dens  (vulgarly  castles)  on 
its  banks,  and  nice  Saxon  towns,  with  no  cannon  in  them ;  for  the  King 
of  Saxony  is  not  an  Austrian,  so  he  has  faith  in  something  beside  can 
non.  From  Dresden  we  came  here,  passing  through  Wittemberg,  and 
at  a  distance  doing  reverence  to  the  church  where  Luther  posted  up  the 
95  theses,  and  where  the  grave  covers  his  hardy  body.  I  ought  to  add 
that  in  one  of  the  towns  we  passed  by  on  the  Danube,  there  is  a  street 
called  "  Dort  Hindb  "  from  this  circumstance  :  once  wrhen  Luther  was 
there,  some  enemies  wished  to  seize  him,  and  as  he  turned  to  escape,  the 


THEODORE    PARKER.  237 

Devil  (who  loved  Martin  like  a  brother,  in  spite  of  the  inkstand)  shouted 
out  "  Down  there !  "  pointing  to  a  little  lane.  There  is  a  fresco  repre 
senting  the  event.  Of  course,  the  miracle  is  a  fact,  if  there  is  any 
truth  in  Douglas's  Criterion  and  Leslie's  Short  Method. 

Here  I  am  at  Berlin,  in  the  third  story  of  the  British  Hotel.  Do 
you  know  what  sort  of  a  place  Berlin  is?"  No?  Imagine  a  sandy 
'plain  forty  miles  square,  with  one  or  two  nasty  rivers  trying  to  get 
through  ik>  but  doubtful  all  the  time  that  they  had  taken  the  right 
way.  In  the  centre  of  this  plain,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  most  doubt 
ful  of  the  rivers,  imagine  a  great  number  of  brick  houses  covered  with 
stucco,  and  a  few  churches,  &c.,  of  the  same  material.  Then  imagine 
one  street  sixty  or  seventy  feet  wide,  and  two  miles  long,  with  another 
street  two  hundred  feet  wide  and  one  mile  long,  having  four  rows  of 
lime-trees  in  it,  a  foot  walk  in  the  centre,  and  two  carriage  ways,  one 
on  each  side ;  then  add  some  hundreds  of  other  streets,  all  straight, 
and  you  have  a  conception  of  Berlin.  For  the  moving  part  of  it,  ima 
gine  1000  hackney  coaches,  the  drivers  with  cows'-tails  on  top  of  their 
caps,  100  private  carriages,  400  drags  for  beer,  150  carts,  and  wagons 
for  other  business,  30,000  soldiers,  1650  students,  180  professors  (it 
will  take  a  day  to  imagine  them  all),  a  King,  Baron  Von  Humboldt, 
and  270,000  others,  Imagine  the  -King  with  a  belly  like  Uncle  Tom 
Clarke,  the  students  with  mustachios,  the  professors  lecturing  on 
Dagesh  lene,  the  King  "  counting  out  his  money,"  Baron  Yon  Humboldt 
sleeping  on  his  laurels,  and  the  270,000  smoking,  walking,  weaving, 
making  pipes,  and  getting  dinner,  and  you  have  an  idea  of  the 
personate  of  Berlin.  I  have  heard  lots  of  professors  since  I  have 
been  here — Schelling,  amongst  others.  He  lectures  on  the  Offenba- 
rungs-Philosophie.  I  heard  him  twice.  He  looks  old  and  feeble,  is 
seventy,  his  articulation  is  feeble  ;  he  has  an  audience  of  150  or  200 : 
most  of  them  come  only  from  curiosity;  or  to  amuse  themselves  at  the 
senilities  of  this  philosophe.  He  hates  Hegel.  In  one  lecture  he  took 
up  a  certain  notion  that  Hegel  had  wrapped  up  in  many  words,  and 
after  disengaging  it,  said,  "  Accordingly,  when  Hegel's  doctrine  is  under 
stood — which  seldom  happens  with  many  of  his  followers — it  is  an 
absurdity !"  He  is  not  professor,  but  member  of  the  Academy  of 
Sciences,  so  has  a  right  to  lecture,  and  avails  himself  of  it.  The  right 
in  a  Mem.  Soc.  Scientise  is  inalienable !  His  coming  here,  I  should 
judge,  was  a  failure  ;  Hegelism  nourishes  like  a  green  bay-tree,  full  of 
leaves,  and  threatening  fruit.  The  King  don't  like  it.  Bruno  Bauer  has 
lost  his  Lehrfreiheil  (liberty  to  teach),  so  he  abandons  theology  and 
takes  to  writing  history.  I  never  thought  Bruno  Bauer  was  a  great 
man,  though  he  made  a  great  noise ;  the  other  Baur,  whom  Mr. 
Norton  holds  in  such  disesteem,  is  really  a  man  of  Tiefsinnigkeit  (pro 
fundity)  and  genius  too.  The  other  day  I  heard  Werder,  a  young 
Hegelian,  lecturing  on  " Logik"  The  point  at  issue  was  " Bestimmt- 
heit"*  He  got  into  a  great  passion  and  a  desperate  fix  with  his 
Bestimmtheit,  trying,  as  I  dimly  gathered,  to  discover  the  Ur-Bestim- 
mung.  He  said,  in  JBestimmung  there  was  Daseyn  (being)  and  Realite. 
Hereupon  a  fat,  chubby  student,  with  cheeks  like  one  of  your  class- 

*  Literally  meaning  Definiteness ;    but,  in  this  connection,  (connoting  the  essential 
ground  (in  reason)  of  all  necessary  conceptions. 


238  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

mates,  evidently  his  Ma's  darling,  tried  hard  to  conceive  the  difference  ; 
but  after  numerous  ineffectual  attempts  gave  up  in  despair.  Then 
said  the  professor,  "  In  Daseyn  there  is  Etwas  real  und  Anders"  (some 
thing  real  and  something  else)  ;  now,  "  Etwas  ist  durch  und  durch  E/was 
und  nicht  A  iiders  ;  Anders  ist  durch  und  durch  Anders  und  nicht  Etwas"* 
He  got  into  quite  a  dithyrambic  mood  upon  this,  put  his  linger  on 
the  organ  of  individuality,  then  laid  it  alongside  of  his  nose,  then 
flourished  it  in  the  air.  It  is  no  easy  thing  to  go  down  to  the  pro 
found  of  Hegelism.  You  must  take  off  your  Sinnlichkeit  (corporeity), 
which  is  all  of  many  men  ;  then  lay  aside  your  Vorsteliungen  (notions), 
which  is,  with  most  men,  like  plucking  ./Esop's  jay  ;  then  take  off  your 
iff  (conception).  Then  you  are  "far  too  naked  to  be  ashamed;" 


in  short,  you  are  an  Urmensch  (primitive  man),  a  blosse  Geist  (pure 
spirit)  ;  you  have  then  the  proper  "alacrity  in  sinking;"  you  go  down, 
down,  down,  and  learn  that  Seyn  is  equal  to  Nicht  seyn.  Yet,  after  all 
my  persiflage,  the  hope  of  the  world  lies  in  Hegelism,  so  they  say,  and 
the  King  hates  it.  So  do  the  ministers.  Rosencrantz  and  Marheineke 
were  going  to  start  a  journal,  Hegelian,  of  course  ;  the  King  forbade 
it  ;  the  minister  called  Marheineke  before  him  and  read  his  instructions, 
but  would  not  let  Marheineke  have  a  copy.  Thereupon  the  "  faculty  " 
had  a  meeting,  and  decided  that  this  violated  their  "  Lehrfreiheit" 

I  don't  know  what  will  come  of  it.  I  get  this  from  a  Bremen  paper, 
not  a  Prussian.  Men  at  Berlin  know  nothing  about  it.  Bettina  pub 
lished  a  book  ;  it  was  verboten  (forbidden)  and  confiscirt  (confiscated) 
years  ago.  Then  she  wrote  another,  drove  up  to  the  King  and  asked, 
"  May  it  be  published  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  the  King.  So  it  appeared  with 
the  title  "  Dies  Buch  gehort  dem  Koriig."  (This  book  belongs  to  the 
King.)  It  was  worse  than  the  first  ;  the  ministers  "  kicked,"  it 
would  not  do.  Now  she  prints  another,  "  Clemens  Brentanos  Lauben- 
krantz,"  Charlottenburg,  1844,  (Clemens  Brentano's  "Wreath),  and 
will  carry  it  to  the  King  for  his  privilege.  She  is  writing  another  on 
the  sufferings  in  Silesia  ;  a  terrible  book  it  is,  too,  to  judge  from  the 
pages  of  the  manuscript  she  read  me.  She  showed  me  a  letter  from 
your  sister,  and  sends  thanks.  Paulus's  "Schelling"t  sells  here. 
Schelling  tried  to  have  it  suppressed,  but  could  not. 

I  have  received  accounts  of  your  noble  sermons  at  Spring  Street,  and 
thank  you  with  all  my  might.  I  am  somewhat  in  doubt  that  my  poor 
head  will  be  well  when  I  return,  for  it  is  certainly  in  a  dubious  state 
now  ;  but  don't  tell  this  to  any  one.  You  will  soon  have  the  Anni 
versary  Week,"  J  and  the  Unitarian  dinner.  I  send  my  good  wishes 
to  the  "  Brethren,"  but  learn  they  are  getting  rapidly  behind-hand  in 
liberality  and  freedom.  Of  course,  this  does  not  surprise  me  ;  but 
what  will  they  do  with  you  and  Noyes  at  the  School?  Really  they  are 
in  a  pretty  "  'Bestimmung  "  (fix)  with  a  real  philosopher  in  one  chair, 
and  a  scholar  in  the  other,  who  denies  the  inspiration  of  the  Old  Tes 
tament  and  the  authenticity  of  many  parts  of  it,  declaring  too  that 
myths  run  through  the  whole  of  the  Gospels  !  Really  it  was  a  mistake  to 

*  Something  is  out  and  out  something,  and  not  other  ;  other  is  out  and  out  other,  and 
not  something. 

f  Written  by  the  famous  Rationalist  of  Heidelberg  —  since  dead. 

£  The  last  week  in  May  ;  devoted  to  various  clerical  and  philanthropic  gatherings  in 
Boston,  bud  to  a  Unitarian  banquet. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  239 

appoint  both  Noyes  and  you!     Better  have  for  the  Bib.  Lit. 

(he  has  a  fac-simile  of  the  first  edition  of  "  James'  Version,"  as  old 
Homer  would  say),  and  a  P.P.  for  the  other  chair!  Do  resign,  or 
become  converted.  Give  my  love  to  the  faithful- hear  ted,  and  believe 
me  iust  as  really  yours  as  of  old,  when  no  ocean  "rolled  between." 

T.  P. 
I  learn  that  the  brethren  don't  exchange  with  you !     I  can  hardly 

forgive  it  in ,  for  he  is  a  wise  and  good  man.     I  fear  that  I  may 

get  you  into  trouble  by  your  supplying  so  excellently  (as  all  say)  the 
pulpit  at  West  Eoxbury.  Grod  forbid  it  should  be  so.  Will  you, 
when  you  meet  Brown,  beg  him  to  make  some  arrangements  with  an 
English  house,  if  he  can ;  and  if  he  does,  let  me  know  before  the 
middle  of  August,  for  I  shall  sail  the  19th  of  August.  Tell  me  all 
the  news  of  E-ipley,  Brownson,  R.  W.  E.,  Stetson,  Lamson,  Walker, 
and,  above  all,  Francis.  I  have  bought  some  books  for  you  that  you 
did  not  order,  because  you  did  not  know  of  them,  but  to  no  amount. 
Adieu. 

TO   THE  SAME. 

Auerbach's  Keller,  12  June,  1844. 

DEAR  DOCTOR  FRANCIS, — I  wonder  if  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  and  Pro 
fessor  of  Sacred  Theology  ever  received  a  letter  written  in  Auerbach's 
Keller,  under  the  influence  of  the  Unmentionable,  who  guided  and 
directed  the  outgoings  and  incomings  of  Herr  Dr.  Faust,  and  was  with 
him  when  he  lay  down  and  when  he  rose  up  ?  I  am  sure  that  you 
never  did — therefore,  in  due  course  of  time,  if  the  mails  fail  not,  you 
shall  have  that  felicity  !  No  doubt  you  will  say  I  chose  the  place  as 
one  whose  inspiration  was  congenial  to  rny  devout  notions  and  theolo 
gical  whimsies !  Well,  men  say  Dr.  F.  (not  Dr.  Francis,  but  Dr. 
Faustus),  was  inspired  by  the  Devil,  but  I  have  sometimes  thought  that 
he  did  nearly  as  much  good  as  some  men,  who,  it  is  said,  were  inspired 
quite  differently.  I  won't  pretend  to  judge,  but  I  wish  some  D.D.'s, 
here  and  elsewhere,  might  be  inspired  by  the  same  Geist, — whether  it 
were  a  blue  spirit  or  a  black  !  Here  are  pictures  of  the  great  scenes  of 
Dr.  F.'s  life  painted,  not  so  very  badly  either,  just  over  my  head.  Here 
is  the  door  out  of  which  he  rode  on  a  tun  (I  take  it  he  signed  the 
pledge  here  before  he  went  out !)  You  know  the  inscription,  and  I 
hope  it  will  be  a  warning  to  you  and  to  all  others,  who  are  willing  to  eat 
the  Devil's  bread.  The  rhyme  states  he  got  for  his  pains  the  Devil's 
reward!  so  don't  you  enter  into  a  compact  and  covenant  with  that  pro 
lific  master — pray  advise  all  the  students  of  Sacred  Theology  never  to 
meddle  with  such  things ! 

Well ;  one  Martin  Luther  preached  here  in  Leipsic,  though  not  in 
Auerbach's  Keller — as  I  now  do.  He  held  forth  from  a  high  balcony 
in  the  street.  It  stands  there  still. 

Here  the  relentless  hours  overtook  me,  and  notwithstanding  my 
sacred  occupation,  drew  me  out  of  the  famous  Keller,  and  sent  me  otf 
to  Frankfort  A.M.  It  is  now  the  20th  of  June,  and  I  am  near,  not  the 
tun  of  Dr.  Faustus,  but  the  great  tun  of  Heidelberg.  Tou  must  know 
that  this  tun  is  not  that  out  of  which  Dr.  Paulus  drinks  wine  and  beer, 
but  one  quite  other  and  different.  But  let  me  not  travel  away  fro*« 


240  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Leipsic  so  fast.  I  wandered  all  about  it,  and  a  nice  place  it  is  too,  with 
its  143  booksellers,  its  Brockhauses,  its  Tauchnitzes,  its  Schneiders,  and 
Fleischers.  But  there  is  not  a  street  called  after  them — not  even  a 
steamboat !  By  the  way,  a  pious  American  said,  "  You  see  by  the  very 
names  of  things  how  wicked  these  Germans  are.  They  call  a  steamboat 
a  damdship.  So  you  see  that  their  *  Atheism  '  extends  even  to  small 
aifairs."  At  Leipsic  I  thought  often  of  old  Homer  * — not  the  poet,  but 
the  preacher.  I  walked  in  the  library  of  the  University,  and  saw  busts 
of  many  of  his  favourites  ;  grim  enough  they  looked  too,  as  if  they  were 
made  to  write  books  for  old  Homer  to  read,  or  as  if  he  were  made  to 
read  books  which  they  should  write.  Here  were  Cocceius  and  Buchen- 
kagen,  and  fifty  others,  whose  names  I  never  heard  pronounced  except 
by  the  redactor  of  Bibles.  At  last  I  fell  upon  "  Martians  Geier." 
He  was  H.'s  particular  friend:  "Eich,  very  rich,"  said  H.,  as  he  took 
down  once  for  me  a  copy  of*  Greier."  Here  he  was  on  the  canvas,  looking 
a  Commentary  on  the  Psalms,  and  threatening  one  on  the  Lamentations. 

I  have  often  thought  I  met  Homer  in  old  corners  of  old  libraries — 
like  the  20  Alcove  in  the  former  College  Library.  Here  I  have  had  him 
pursuing  the  shades  of  "  various  readings,"  and  hunting  through  this 
and  the  other  unreal  "  codex."  Then  I  have  fancied  him  in  Purgatory, 
allowed  to  have  a  sight  of  "  Tindal's  Edition  of  1536,"  yet  not  allowed 
to  touch  it.  Then,  too,  going  up  to  the  ghost  of  great  printers — Aldus, 
Proben,  Elzevir,  and  Stephens — with  the  shadow  of  his  Bible  under  his 
arm,  trying  to  find  a  publisher,  seeking  rest  but  finding  none.  Still 
further,  I  have  fancied  him  released  from  limbo  and  put  in  the  only 
heaven  he  had  prepared  himself  to  enjoy,  surrounded  with  forgotten 
tomes,  his  favourite  "  versions  "  among  the  rest,  and  conversing  with 
the  kindred  spirits,  from  the  eleventh  century,  who  split  hairs  all  their 
lives,  were  always  labouring,  and  never  came  to  the  truth.  Especially 
would  he  revel  in  the  company  of  that  great  army — "  part  of  the  host 
have  crossed  the  flood,  and  part  are  crossing  now'" — of  grave  theolo 
gians  who  have  expounded  the  Song  of  Songs,  explained  the  nature  and 
extent  of  the  sins  of  Solomon,  and  given  curious  conjectures  about  the 
Virgin  Mary.  But  let  H.  go  to  his  own  place. 

I  saw  old  Hermann  here.  He  looks  like  Deacon  Arnold,  who  sits 
at  your  left-hand  on  Sundays,  and  looks  up  devoutly  to  catch  the  words 
of  wisdom  that  fall  from  your  lips ;  only  the  Deacon  has  the  more 
intellectual  face,  and  the  best  tempered.  Hermann  is  about  seventy- 
two  years  old,  with  little  fiery,  spiteful  eyes  that  are  never  still.  He 
is  small  and  thin,  has  lost  his  teeth,  and  therefore  does  not  speak  dis 
tinctly.  It  was  Sunday  when  I  went  to  see  him  with  Dr.  PJiigel. 
He  had  not  been  to  church ;  indeed,  I  doubt  that  the  Deutsche 
Gelekrte  ever  go,  except  to  be  baptized  when  they  are  babes.  He  had 
spurs  on  his  feet,  for  he  rides  an  hour  every  day  in  the  riding-school. 
In  consequence  of  this  experience  in  riding,  the  illustrious  man  thinks 
he  is  peculiarly  qualified  to  write  on  the  equestrian  terms  in  the  Greek 
language.  I  remember  to  have  seen  him  praised  in  some  of  the  journals 
for  his  great  knowledge  of  equestrian  affairs,  "  gained,"  said  the  laudator, 
"  by  his  daily  and  praiseworthy  habit  of  riding  on  horseback."  Now, 

*  Allusion  is  made  to  Dr.  Homer,  of  Newton,  a  clergyman  of  the  old  school,  whose 
Calvinism  was  tempered  by  a  love  of  book-collecting.  For  the  most  part,  however,  hia 
books  were  like  his  doctrines,  very  venerable  and  very  futile. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  241 

if  he  bathes  in  a  pan  every  day,  he  will  be  particularly  able  to  write  on 
the  natatory  terms  in  Greek,  and  on  the  naval  tactics  of  the  ancients 
in  general.  Pray  suggest  this  to  Felton,  and  you  will  no  longer  be  a 
"  speckled  bird,"  and  no  jay  will  ever  peck  at  you ! 

Hermann  talked  about  America  like  a  book  (printed  before  1492)  ; 
about  Felton  and  Woolsey.  He  thinks  Lobeck  is  a  great  man,  though 
not  quite  five  feet  high — that  the  Aglaophamus  is  a  master-piece.  I 
glory  in  the  honour,  which  is  hitherto  peculiar  to  myself,  of  having 
read  it.  I  heard  Hermann  lecture  one  day  on  the  Trachiniae,  Vs. 
1075.  He  lectured  an  hour  in  Latin ;  sometimes  he  followed  his  notes 
— sometimes  spoke  with  no  reference  to  them.  He  got  into  a  great 
heat  on  a  small  particle,  and  destroyed  I  do  not  know  how  many  repu 
tations  without  stint.  You  would  have  thought  he  looked  over  the 
author's  shoulder,  and  knew,  not  only  just  what  he  wrote,  but  just 
what  he  meant  by  what  he  wrote.  How  much  wiser  critics  are 'than 
authors !  I  have  no  doubt  that  Coleridge  said  something,  for  no 
prophecy  is  of  any  private  interpretation,  whereof  he  knew  not  the 
meaning.  Now  there  will,  no  doubt,  arise  critics  who  will  tell  future 
generations  just  what  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  meant  by  his  thesis, 
metathesis,  and  synthesis. 

But  let  me  come  to  sadder  things.  I  went  to  Wheeler's  grave.*  It 
was  a  beautiful  Sunday  afternoon.  The  roses  were  all  in  blossom,  and 
a  sweet  fragrance  filled  the  whole  spot  where  the  dead  lay  sleeping.  In  a 
pleasant  little  enclosure  was  the  grave  of  Wheeter — grassy,  green.  A 
pan  of  forget-me-nots  was  on  the  head  of  the  grave,  all  fresh  and 
blooming,  bright-eyed  and  beautiful.  The  birds  sung  out  a  cheerful 
song.  I  almost  envied  him  the  repose  which  his  body  has  here.  A 
spirit,  pure  as  his,  is,  I  doubt  not,  tranquil  and  blest. 

I  got  your  letter — kind,  welcome,  hearty,  as  they  always  are.  I  need 
not  say  how  much  I  thank  you  for  having  the  courage  to  go  and  preach 
to  the  good  folk  at  Spring  Street.  I  fear  that  it  may  make  you  more 
of  a  speckled  bird,  as  I  hear  the  brethren  don't  exchange  with  you. 
Really,  I  have  no  patience  with  them.  I  do  not  care  for  myself,  but  to 
refuse  to  exchange  with  you  at  Spring  Street  is  past  endurance. 

I  have  seen  Ullman  and  Umbreit,  having  many  talks  with  both  ;  also 
Creutzer  and  Paulus — a  noble  old  fellow  is  Paulus,  eighty-three  years 
old,  and  hale  and  flourishing  yet,  hating  nothing  but  Schelling.  He 
talked  an  hour  to  me  about  German  theology. 

TO   THE   SAME, 

Zurich,  12  July,  1844. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — If  it  were  not  for  the  horrible  postage  of 
letters  I  would  write  you  at  least  once  a  week,  for  I  see  a  thousand ' 
things,  and  think  of  ten  thousand  which  I  would  gladly  tell  you  of. 
To-morrow  you  will  send  forth  your  body  of  youths  commissioned  to 
bind  and  to  loose,*  and  of  course  with  the  express  understanding  that 

*  Charles  Stearns  Wheeler,  graduate  of  the  class  of  1837,  son  of  a  Lincoln  fanner, 
self-educated,  industrious,  and  filled  with  scholarly  enthusiasm.  He  was  a  tutor  of 
Greek  at  Cambridge,  and  edited  Herodotus  with  taste  and  ability.  He  died  at  Leipsic 
some  time  previous  to  Mr.  Parker's  visit. 

t  Referring  to  the  Annual  Visitation  Day  at  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School,  when 
the  members  of  the  Senior  Class  read  their  Essays  before  graduating  and  commencing  to 
preach. 

17 


242  LIFE  AND   COKKESPONDENCE   OF 

whatsoever  and  whomsoever  they  bind  shall  be  bound  in  heaven,  and 
the  resb.  Only  imagine  the  youths  fagotting  for  eternity  both  opinions 
and  passions  !  By  the  way,  do  you  believe  Jesus  Christ  ever  told  his 
disciples,  or  anyone  else,  that  that  which  they  bound  on  earth  should  be 
bound  in  heaven  ?  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  and  think  it  one  of  the 
greatest  heresies  of  the  Church  (the  great  parent  of  heresies)  to  have 
told  such  a  story.  But  of  this  some  other  time,  or  no  other  time,  as 
the  case  may  be. 

Here  I  am  in  the  great  theatre  of  the  actions  of  Zwingle,  with 
"  Zurich's  fair  waters  "  spread  out  before  me.  I  wish  you  were  here 
to  visit  the  famous  places  with  me,  and  to  talk  of  famous  men,  and  to 
speak  of  our  fathers  that  begat  us.  Since  I  saw  you  (or  a  letter)  I 
have  seen  many  famous  men.  At  Heidelberg  /  saw  one  Paulus,  who 
assures  me  that  a  third,  at  least,  of  the  educated  men  of  Germany  are 
Anti-Trinitarian ;  but  they  dare  not  say  a  word  against  the  Trinity, 
only  to  weaken  certain  modes  of  proving  it.  Rationalism,  he  says,  is 
still  the  real  faith  of  the  nation, *.  e.,  of  the  educated.  Schlosser*  says 
the  same,  only  adding  that  "  my  friend  Paulus  goes  too  far.  To  me 
the  Bible  is  full  of  poetry  ;  it  is  not  truth  but  poetry :  as  such  I  like  it. 
But  if  I  tell  the  people  so,  they  won't  take  it  as  poetry,  but  to  their 
great  loss  will  reject  it  altogether ;  so  I  call  it  Ojfenbarung  (Revelation), 

and  hurt  nobody's  feelings."  Now,  this  is  worthy  of  the  . 

Pray  instruct  the  hopeful  youth  in  the  art  of  mystification ;  it  will 
save  controversy,  and  hurt  "  nobody's  feelings."  I  wish  I  could  have 
learnt  it,  and  certainly  it  was  not  for  lack  of  precept  and  example  that 
I  did  not,  but  from  an  actual  stupidity  in  myself.  But  suppose  you 
know  your  brother  is  in  bondage  to  a  lie,  why  not  let  him  alone  to  find 
it  out  for  himself?  Let  the  blind  lead  the  blind  till  they  fall  into  the 
ditch.  So  far  as  I  can  learn,  there  is  precious  little  faith  among  the 
Germans,  in  the  old  wives'  fables  of  theology — much  less  than  appears ; 
only  the  knaves  know  how  to  mystify,  to  save  appearances,  and  so 
forth.  Of  course  I  except  such  men  as  Hengstenberg,  and  in  some 
measure  Tholuck,  who  proves  the  Trinity  a  priori,  and  with  no  help 
from  Revelation.  I  saw  Ullman  several  times  at  Heidelberg ;  he  is  a 
pacificator,  a  medium-iter  man.  One  party  says  1+1=2;  another 
1  +  1  iz  4.  "No,"  says  Ullman,  "my  dear  friends,  you  are  both  mis 
taken,  why  quarrel  ?  Truth  takes  the  medium  Her,  1  -f  1  =  3."  There 
may  be  three  parties  in  theology,  viz. — 1.  That  of  midnight;  and 
2.  That  of  mid-day;  and  3.  That  of  twilight.  I  think  Tllman  belongs 
the  latter  class,  and  stands  on  the  indifference-point  between  day  and 
darkness  ;  yet  he  is  n  good  man,  and  I  like  him  much.  He  is  a  little 
petit  maitre-ish,  dignified  in  littleness.  Yet  he  is  kind,  amiable,  fearing 
a  split  in  the  party  (the  denomination,  as  we  say),  more  critical  than 
courageous ;  in  short,  a  very  careful  Geheime-rath,  a  Consislorial-ratk. 
He  tolerates  botR  Strauss  and  Hengstenberg,  and  writes  treatises  on 
the  "  Sinlessness  of  Christ,"  and  the  "  Reformers  before  the  Reforma 
tion,"  letting  alone  his  pacificatory  articles  in  the  Studien  und  Kritiken. 

Umbreit  is  a  dapper  little  man,  that  expounds  the  Old  Testament, 
and,  wearing  fine  linen,  walks  out  with  the  young  princes  that  study 
(?)  at  Heidelberg,  and  fearing  to  offend  them,  walks  sidewise,  with 

*  Professor  of  History — since  dead. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  243 

his  face  towards  the  object  of  reverence — their  sublime  transparencies ! 
I  hope  you  will  follow  a  practice  so  commendable,  and  recommend  it 
also  to  the  youths.  Saw  old  Creutzer  also,  and  had  a  long  talk  with 
him.  He  wondering  that  nobody  had  translated  his  Symlolik  into 
English.  I  like  the  old  toothless  and  skull-capped  man  very  much, 
though  he  did  not  impress  me  as  the  thin,  eagle-eyed  old  Paulus  did. 
Paulus  is  a  man  of  genius;  Creutzer  of  talent,  learning,  industry  only. 
I  saw  the  Eeuchlin-Meldeg,  whom  they  call  professor  of  philosophy 

here.  He  looks  a  good  deal  like or  as will  when  he  has 

gone  to  seed.  In  short,  he  is  an  exaggeration  of ,  and  keeps  his 

skin  so  full  of  beer,  that  when  he  opens  his  mouth,  as  he  often  does 
for  self-protection,  it  goes  off  like  a  beer-barrel,  pop,  fiz,  pop  !  He  has 
written  a  funny  piece  of  persiflage,  the  New  Reineke  Fuchs ;  Gothe  is 
the  nightingale,  Kant  the  lion,  Fichte  the  eagle,  Hegel  the  bear,  and 
Schelling  is  Eeineke.  When  the  lion  died,  Eeineke  got  his  mane; 
when  the  eagle  demised,  he  took  his  wings,  and  thus  appearing  as  lion- 
eagle,  taught  that  the  Absolute  was  the  Eeal  and  Ideal,  adding  that  the 
Absolute  was  in  his  burrow.  So  then  conies  a  quarrel  between  him  and 
the  bear,  and  the  bear  digs  him  out  of  his  hole,  and  shows  the  admirers 
of  Eeineke  that  the  Absolute  was  nothing  but  an  old  cloak  hung  over 
a  white  spot  on  a  rock.  So  off  goes  Eeineke,  and  digs  another  hole, 
and  remains  in  it  till  the  bear  is  dead.  Then  he  comes  out  at  open  day, 
smelling  to  see  if  bear  is  really  no  more ;  goes  into  bear's  den  and 
teaches  his  old  nonsense.  But  an  old  eagle  (Paulus)  sees  him,  and 
comes  like  lightning  from  his  eyrie,  screams  over  him  in  the  sky,  soars 
down,  tears  off  the  lion's  mane,  the  eagle's  wings  he  had  stolen,  and 
leaves  the  fox  naked,  ashamed,  and  silent !  It  is  a  quite  pleasant  piece 
of  nonsense. 

Schlosser  is  a  fine  old  gentleman,  who  wrote  history  for  amusement, 
so  he  says,  equally  scorning  money  and  renown.  I  saw  Gervinus,  who, 
they  say,  has  read  more  books  than  any  man  in  Germany,  except 
Scblosser.  He  is  about  five-ancl-thirty,  has  a  nice  pretty  little  wife, 
plump  as  a  partridge,  and  full  of  Geist.  Then  he  lives  in  a  pretty  little 
cottage,  on  the  banks  of  the  Ehine,  in  the  midst  of  a  vineyard :  don't 
suppose  from  the  proximity  that  he  ever  drinks  wine ;  no  American 
would  ever  read  his  books  if  he  did ;  of  course  he  slakes  his  thirst  at 
the  Ehine.  Well:  Gervinus  is  just  appointed  Professor  of  History 
in  Schlosser's  place,  for  Schlosser  would  rather  run  away  from  his 
publifcum,  than  have  it  run  away  from  him.  Of  course,  you  know  that 
Gerviuus  is  one  of  the  seven  famous  professors  driven  away  from 
Gottingen.  Ewald  and  the  Grimms  are  of  the  same  clique.  They  had 
the  impudence  to  think,  and  to  speak  too,  upon  the  powers  that  be, 
which  of  course  are  "  of  God,"  saith  Paul,  who  never  interfere  with 
freedom  of  thought ;  they  however  lay  a  slight  embargo  on  the  spoken 
word,  still  more  on  the  printed.  At  Heideiberg,  they  let  a  man  not 
only  speak  after  he  has  thought  twice — but  before  he  thinks  once, 
as  with  us  at  home. 

At  Tubingen  I  saw  Ewald,  one  of  the  hardest  heads  in  Germany, 
at  least,  in  the  theological  camp.  But  like  other  hard  heads,  his  is  a 
little  wrong,  and  he  quarrels  with  everybody,  inclusive  of  his  bread  and 
butter,  which  latter  proves  his  wrong-headedness.  What  is  the  use- of 
great  abilities,  if  they  don't  give  you  bread  to  your  butter  ?  I  saw  a 


244  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

good  deal  of  Ewald,  walked  with  him,  took  tea  with,  &c.  I  had  no 
letter  of  introduction,  but  went  boldly  up  and  said,  "  Sir,  I  am  an 
American,  have  read  your  works,  and  want  to  see  you."  No  man  that 
I  have  seen  in  Germany  strikes  me  more  as  a  man  of  genius  than 
Ewald.  Yet  he  is  often  wrong,  I  think.  He  has  just  published  the 
first  part  of  a  History  of  the  Hebrews.  I  have  got  it  for  you.  He 
fears  the  Catholics ;  so  do  all  the  men  that  I  have  talked  with,  espe 
cially  do  they  fear  the  Jeauits.  I  think  they  are  right.  Ewald  represents 
the  condition  of  things  as  alarming  in  Germany — the  people  have  no 
freedom  ;  no  confidence  in  the  Government,  which  they  cordially  detest. 

Baur  js  a  great  hard  man — big  as  Sam  Eipley,  and  looks  burly  and 
savage.  He  is  Hegelian  all  over.  I  have  his"  History  of  the  Trinity 
and  other  books,  but  he  only  looks  through  Hegelian  glasses.  He  is  a 
friend  of  Strauss,  says  Strauss  is  a  Christian,  that  his  writings  have  a 
deep  and  radical  influence,  all  the  stronger  because  not  much  talked  of. 
Tholuck,  and  others,  have  told  me  about  the  "  atheism  "  of  the  Hege 
lians,  and  that  Strauss  was  no  Christian.  The  talk  about  atheism  is 
not  limited  to  the  circle  about  Boston.  Somebody  told  me  that  Strauss 
was  no  Christian.  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  do  you  know  anything  evil  of  his 
life?"  "Nothing.  It  is  manly,  noble,  above  reproach."  "He  has 
had  his  child  baptized,  besides.  Eh  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  Can  you  say  as 
much  in  the  defence  of  the  Christianity  of  most  cultivated  men  digni 
fied  with  that  name  of  Christian?"  "No,  certainly  not.  I  did  not 
mean  to  say  anything  against  the  man  I " 

I  doubt  that  there  is  in  Germany  a  university  where  there  is  a 
more  able  theological  faculty.  Here  is  Zeller,  a  young  Repetent  (such 
an  office  exists  only  at  Tubingen — is  like  that  of  tutor  at  Oxford),  is 
thought  to  be  full  of  promise.  You  have  seen  his  work  on  Plato. 
Here  they  concoct  one  of  the  best  journals  in  Germany.  It  is  Hege 
lian  and  new-schoolish  of  course.  Bub  I  must  not  delay  too  long  at 
Tiibingen:  we  went  through  the  Black  Forest,  Simmons  with  us,  to 
Freiburg ;  saw  the  famous  Munster,  but  old  Professor  Hug  we  did 
not  see.  Had  it  not  been  so  late,  I  would  have  gone  and  told  him,  as 
I  have  a  good  many  Germans,  theologians  and  philosophers,  "  I  have 
read  your  book."  But  the  old  gentleman  had,  perhaps,  gone  to  bed,  and 
in  the  morning  I  went  off  before  it  was  decorous  to  call  on  the  worthy 
Catholic.  At  Bale,  of  course  I  saw  De  Wette,  a  compact  little  man, 
with  a  rather  dry  face,  a  little  irritable,  I  fancy,  perhaps  something 
soured  by  his  long  disasters.  He  had  not  received  the  copy  of  my 
translation  which  Mr.  Brown  was  to  send  him.  This  grieved  me  much. 
He  is  preparing  a  new  edition  still,  but  with  no  considerable  alteration 
from  the  last.  It  will  soon  appear.  During  the  time  I  stayed  at  Bale, 
I  saw  a  good  deal  of  him,  first  and  last,  heard  him  lecture,  &c.,  spent 
an  evening  with  him  at  a  friend's — his  wife  is  away — dined  with 
him  at  his  son's.  His  functions  are  not  great ;  he  has  from  twelve 
to  twenty  students  of  theology,  and  the  whole  University  of  Bale 
numbers  but  about  sixty  pupils!  You  may  fancy  that  I)e  Wette 
spends  his  time  more  agreeably  in  the  study  than  elsewhere.  But 
then  he  has  leisure  enough  to  write,  and  think,  and  speculate,  and 
print,  too.  He  knew  but  little  of  ecclesiastical  affairs  or  theological 
matters  with  us.  He  only  knew  Norton  as  one  that  polemized  against 
him.  The  light  of  the  seven  gold  candlesticks,  on  the  back  of  the 


THEODORE   PARKER.  245 

academical  lectures,  had  never  gladdened  his  eye.  Even  Grey's  Key 
was  known  only  by  name.  "Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  plan  for  the 

'*  body,"  as  Father  Briggs  says,  to  send  out with  a  lot  of  Grey  s 

Keys  to  enlighten  the  Germans  withal?  Some  of  "our  excellent 
tracts  "  might  also  be  circulated  to  advantage.  Pray  suggest  it.  Who 
knows  but  it  may  stay  the  flood  of  Rationalism  which  threatens 
to  leave  sundry  dogmas  where  Grotius  says  the  Ark  may  still  be 
seen? 

I  heard  De  Wette  lecture  on  the  Harmony  of  the  New  Testament. 
He  cut  right  and  left  and  made  no  bones  of  saying  that  such  a  passage 
was  probably  unacht  (spurious),  that  John  knew  nothing  of  it,  &c. 
"  Carpenter's  Harmony "  would  set  the  Professor  right  on  this 
point. 

I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  thousand  things  we  talked  about  in  Bale, 
theological  and  philosophical.  Of  these  at  home.  Last  year  or  earlier 
he  went  to  Halle  and  Jena,  and  was  received  with  great  enthusiasm  by 
the  professors  and  students  at  Jena,  he  made  a  speech  to  them,  and 
advised  them  to  study  their  books,  get  their  lessons,  and  keep  silent.  So 
some  one  told  me,  which  advice  they  will  keep  as  well  as  George  Fox 
the  similar  advice  which  some  one  gave  him  ;  but  it  takes  a  great  deal 
of  soul  to  bear  up  well  under  exile  and  long  misfortune.  Yet  De 
Wette  has  never  retracted  ungenerously  anything  he  has  said.  The 
good  men,  says  Ewald,  justified  him  in  all  his  course  at  the  time  of  his 
exile,  but  the  journals  never  dared  to  say  one  word  in  his  defence.  I 
think  he  is  a  great  and  noble  man.  Perhaps  no  theologian  in  G-ermany 
has  more  influence  at  this  moment  than  he.  He  is  both  critical  and 
mystical,  so  seems  sometimes  to  waver,  and  does  lean  as  one  or  the 
other  element  gets  the  upper  hand.  At  Bale  I  saw  some  curious 
paintings  by  Holbein,  amongst  others  a  schoolmaster's  sign-board  of 
the  year  1516.  It  was  not  a  Massacre  of  the  Innocents,  as  you  might 
suppose,  but  the  process  of  instruction,  not  without  the  birch,  an 
adjunct  which  has  been  sacred  to  pedagogues  from  the  days  of  Solomon. 
Here,  too,  was  one  of  the  most  curious  and  felicitous  pictures  of  Erasmus 
I  ever  saw,  and  I  have  seen  a  hundred,  I  think.  He  sat  writing  ;  all 
about  him  is  exquisitely  genteel,  yet  with  no  foppishness.  There  is  a 
good  deal  in  Erasmus  to  admire,  his  exquisite  taste,  his  consummate 
skill,  the  singular  refinement  and  delicacy  of  his  taste  is  curiously 
apparent  in  the  midst  of  his  smutty  talk.  His  handwriting  is  elegant ; 
the  letters  not  bold  like  Melancthon's,  nor  so  feminine  as  Luther's 
(strange  contrast  with  the  battles  they  thunder  forth),  but  graceful 
and  most  elegantly  cut.  Here  are  many  manuscript  letters  of  Erasmus 
never  printed,  one  curious  little  Latin  poem  in  iambics  upon  Pope 
Julius  II.  Pray  why  have  not  all  his  letters  been  published,  and  why  has 
no  really  satisfactory  life  of  the  man  appeared  ?  But,  alas !  there  is 
none  of  Luther,  nor  even  of  John  Calvin.  Here  is,  in  the  library  of 
Bale,  a  copy  of  Erasmus'  Praise  of  Folly  in  quarto,  with  wide  margins, 
and  on  each  page  is  a  "  scrap  "  by  Holbein,  beautifully  done  with  a 
pen,  and  just  as  if  made  but  yesterday,  illustrating  the  text.  I  re 
member  one  illustrating  the  miraculous  conception  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin ;  the  Homunculus  was  entering  her  mouth,  the  angels  applauding 
in  the  meantime.  Indeed,  I  have  seen  the  same  thing  in  churches  on  a 
large  scale,  shamefully  disgusting,  and  bad  almost  as  the  doctrine  they 


246  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

represent.  Nothing  shows  more  fully  Holbein's  genius  than  these 
little  sportive  touches  in  the  manuscript.  They  have  been  engraved, 
but  poorly.  Stahelin  has  published  his  work  on  Genesis  ;  De  Wette 
thinks  it  excellent.  I  will  bring  it  home,  knowing  the  interest  you  feel 
on  this  special  matter.  Indeed  the  poor  Books  of  Moses  are  fought 
over  with  as  much  violence  as  Patroclus'  body,  but  the  divine  Achilles 
has  not  come  yet  to  end  the  strife  and  rescue  the  corpus  delicti,  giving 
it  honourable  burial. 

From  Bale  to  Bonn.  Here  I  saw  Professor  Vogt,  who  married 
Dr.  Pollen's  sister,  Professors  Schultz  and  Schnell,  revolutionary  men 
and  exiles,  all  of  them.  The  latter  is  a  terrible  fellow  ;  he  has  been 
banished  nearly  a  dozen  times  from  as  many  different  States,  and  got 
up  perhaps  twenty  revolutions.  He  looks  like  a  giant,  and  keeps 
always  full  of  beer,  now  and  then  running  over. 

At  Geneva  I  learned  all  about  the  Swiss  Unitarians.  They  are  going 
down  rapidly,  they  gain  nothing,  but  lose  continually.  However,  the 
church  in  Switzerland  has  its  outer  form  fixed,  but  its  inner  spirit  per 
petually  progressive.  Nobody  believes  the  "  five  points  "  out  of  Ger 
many  in  all  Switzerland  ;  the  greater  part  of  the  clergy  here  at  Zurich 
in  Bale  and  elsewhere,  are  as  much  in  advance  of  our  Unitarians  at 
home  as  they  are  before  Dr.  Codman.  I  am  rather  startled  myself  at 
their  radicalism  in  theology.  But  the  influence  of  Zwingle  is  one 
thing  and  Calvin's  another.  I  have  seen  Hitzig  and  Oken — famous 
men  both.  Hitzig  was  surprised  than  an  American  had  seen  all  his 
works  at  home ;  but  it  was  so.  Here  are  letters  of  Zwingle,  and  his 
"  Battle-axe  "  and  his  Greek  Bible. 

But  I  must  end;  I  hope  you  will  have  a  little  frolic  during  the 
vacation  and  keep  strong,  rejoicing  in  your  good  works. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

Brussels,  July  29. 

MY  DEAB  FKIE:ND, — I  have  remembered  that  you  are  probably  not 
in  Cambridge,  and  therefore  that  my  letter  will  probably  reach  you  as 
soon  by  my  hands  as  by  "  Her  Majesty's  mails;  "  so  I  shall  keep  the 
epistle,  and  make  additions  thereto  from  time  to  time.  Were  it  not 
that  letters  cost  dollars,  I  should  have  piled  up  your  study-table  with 
them  till  the  stout  wood  cracked  and  the  legs  gave  out.  All  that  I  see 
I  want  to  tell  you  of,  from  the  rosy  hues  of  Mont  Blanc  at  sunset  and 
morning  to  the  gossip  of  German  professors.  Then,  too,  such  sugges 
tions  are  made  to  one's  mind  by  the  little  angels  who  people  these  old 
places,  that  I  want  to  talk  of  a  thousand  things  that  never  come  to  me 
at  home.  "  Home-keeping  youths  have  ever  homely  wits,"  says  some 
body.  But  it  is  no  more  true  than  its  converse,  "  that  home-shunning 
youths,"  &c.  Yet  one  does  forget  old  prejudice  when  he  sees  new 
customs ;  and  though  he  loves  his  little  village  all  the  more  after  seeing 
many  other  little  villages,  and  great  ones  too,  yet  he  ceases  to  think 
that  "  Waltham  is  the  finest  parish  in  the  world."  I  have  learned  that 
reading  books  is  one  thing,  and  seeing  the  objects  therein  treated  of 
quite  another— yes,  sometimes  the  opposite.  To  come  to  some  par 
ticulars.  I  think  rather  worse  of  the  Catholic  Church  since  I  have 
seen  its  works  and  its  men,  and  rather  worse  also  of  the  Protestants 


THEODORE   PARKER.  247 

too.  The  Protestant  dungeon  is  wider,  neater,  and  a  good  deal  newer 
than  the  Catholic ;  then,  too,  the  air  is  better ;  the  thumb-screws  of 
better  workmanship  ;  and  the  whole  apparatus  of  torture  has  a  more 
wieldy  and  scientific  appearance — but  still  there  is  a  dungeon,  still 
there  are  thumb-screws,  and  an  apparatus  for  torture. 

Bay  of  Fundy,  Sept.  1. 

Alas !  I  have  had  time  to  write  no  more  ;  but  I  shall  soon  see  you 
again,  so  Grod  bless  you !    Ever  yours,  .      T.  P. 


CHAPTER   X. 

Return — Odium   Theologicum — Letters — Leaves  West  Roxbury — Melodeon — Massachu 
setts  Quarterly  Review. 

THE  dear  friends  in  his  parish  joyfully  welcomed  him  back  to 
his  work,  which  he  reassumed  with  equal  joy,  and  a  longing  for 
an  undisturbed  pursuit  of  his  favourite  objects. 

I  thank  you  heartily  for  the  cordial  greeting  with  which  you  welcome 
me  back  to  my  home ;  for  your  expressions  respecting  my  past  labours, 
and  your  generous  hopes  for  my  future  works.  The  pen  you  are  so 
good  as  to  send  me  is  almost  too  beautiful  to  be  used.  I  shall  always 
prize  it  highly  for  the  associations  connected  with  it,  and  as  a  token  of 
your  esteem  and  friendship.  I  trust  I  shall  never  use  it  badly,  nor  in 
a  bad  cause.  Gratefully  and  respectfully  yours,  T.  P. 

He  immediately  began  to  discharge  the  obligations  which  he 
felt  had  been  incurred  by  this  year  of  enjoyment  and  repose. 
Three  lectures  were  prepared  for  delivery  during  the  winter.  Of 
these,  one  upon  the  "  Signs  of  the  Times/'  filled  with  warm 
anticipations  and  a  too  honest  criticism,  excited  afresh  the  public 
interest  in  him.  It  also  aroused,  of  course,  the  old  opposition, 
which  had  gone  to  sleep,  thinking  that  his  influence  ended  with 
his  departure  for  Europe. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

I  have,  now-a-days,  some  few  struggles  with  myself  to  repress  indig 
nation  at  insults,  real  or  fanciful.  I  must  outgrow  this. 

My  real  troubles  are,  that  I  am  short  of  my  own  ideals  of  goodness 
and  usefulness.  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  do  more  for  what  I  receive  ;  but 
I  feel,  too,  that  my  head  is  clay,  and  requires  to  be  treated  as  any  other 
earthenware — with  carefulness  and  discretion.  I  rejoice  to  write  a  few 
lectures  ;  would  that  I  could  do  more ! 

In  October  he  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Martineau,  acknow 
ledging  the  "  Discourse  of  Religion  "  and  some  other  publications 


THEODORE   PARKER.  249 

which  he  had  sent.     Mr.  Martiueau  remarks,  with  creditable 
perception, — 

I  am  almost  angry  with  you  for  supposing  that  I  need  any  answer  to 
the  scoffing  accusation  brought  against  you.  Who  that  has  any  insight 
into  an  author's  spiritual  physiognomy,  and  can  apprehend  its  expres 
siveness  in  the  smallest  degree,  could  ever  attribute  a  sneer  to  you  ? 

Mr.  Marfcineau  does  not  deny  that  the  manner  in  the  "  Dis 
course  of  Religion "  is  occasionally  a  little  too  slashing  among 
the  convictions  of  other  people. 

But  every  great  writer  must  put  forth  what  is  in  him  in  his  own 
way ;  and  the  excess  of  manly  strength  is  healthier  than  the  scruples 
of  effeminate  forbearance. 

Mr.  Parker  preached  the  Thursday  lecture  in  his  turn  once 
more  and  for  the  last  time  in  December,  from  the  text,  "  Have 
any  of  the  rulers,  or  of  the  Pharisees,  believed  on  him  ?  "  This 
sermon  sets  forth  in  clear  and  enthusiastic  terms  the  human 
nature  of  Christ,  and  the  relation  of  simple  truth  and  goodness 
which  he  held  to  his  age  and  to  the  ages.  He  had  never  been 
so  clear  before  upon  the  person  of  Christ.  Such  clearness  in 
volved  obnoxious  statements,  which  startled  afresh  all  his  brethren 
who  were  beginning  now  to  take  great  care  of  their  conservative 
theology.  And  yet  when  they  are  repeated,  they  seem  ridicu 
lously  out  of  proportion  to  the  clamour  which  they  raised. 

Jesus  looked  to  God  for  his  truth,  his  great  doctrines,  not  his  own 
private,  personal  ones,  depending  on  his  idiosyncracies,  and  therefore 
only  subjectively  true,  but  God's,  universal,  everlasting,  the  absolute 
religion.  I  do  not  know  that  he  did  not  teach  some  errors  also,  along 
with  it.  I  care  not  if  he  did.  It  is  by  his  truths  that  I  know  him. 

!N"o  wonder,  then,  that  men  soon  learned  to  honour  Jesus  as  a  God, 
and  then  as  God  himself.  Apostolical  and  other  legends,  &c.,  believe 
men  of  these  things  as  they  will.  To  me  they  are  not  truth  and  fact, 
but  mythic  symbols  and  poetry  ;  the  psalm  of  praise  with  which  the 
world's  rude  heart  extols  and  magnifies  its  King. 

That  God  has  yet  greater  men  in  store,  I  doubt  not ;  to  say  this 
is  not  to  detract  from  the  majestic  character  of  Christ,  but  to  affirm 
the  omnipotence  of  God.  When  they  come,  the  old  contest  will  be 
renewed,  the  living  prophet  stoned — the  dead  one  worshipped. 

But  henceforth  Mr.  Parker  never  preached  without  offending 
every§  conventionalism  more  fatally  by  his  moral  tone  than  by 
his  technical  denials.  His  indignation  at  the  vices  of  society 
and  the  Phariseeism  of  the  Church  was  too  positive,  too 
thoroughly  reconstructive.  Men  will  sooner  tolerate  what  they 


250  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

call  an  infidel  theology ;  for  mere  negative  criticism  of  Scripture 
and  of  doctrine  does  not  put  men's  livelihood  in  peril,  nor  dis 
turb  their  ease.  But  when  a  sensitive  conscience  cries  out  with 
pain,  "  Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites,"  the 
sound  penetrates  and  shatters  farther  than  the  most  persistent 
depreciation  of  Moses  and  the  Prophets.  The  more  sublimely 
the  moral  sense  of  an  anti-supernaturalist  emulates  the  dreadful 
indignation  of  Jesus,  the  more  likely  will  he  be  to  share  his 
fate.  As  of  old,  the  theology  becomes  the  pretext  for  the  hatred. 
Mr.  Parker  would  not  give  up  his  right  to  preach  the  Thurs 
day  lecture,  nor  his  membership  of  the  Association,  because  he 
would  thereby  ignominiously  recede  from  the  principle  which 
liberal  thought  had  hitherto  represented.  He  did  not  think  he 
had  a  right  to  do  what  nobody  had  a  right  to  demand.  If, 
therefore,  at  this  juncture  a  new  principle  was  to  obtain  control, 
it  must  be  without  his  connivance.  His  right  of  rotation  to 
preach  the  Thursday  lecture  was  adroitly  cancelled,  and  non- 
intercourse  would  do  the  rest. 

TO    REV.    CHANDLER   ROBBINS,    BOSTON. 

West  Roxbury,  29  Jan.,  1845. 

MY  DEAB  FRIEND. — Tour  note,  which  I  did  not  see  till  five  minutes 
ago,  for  I  ha\>e  been  absent  since  Monday  noon,  was  as  kind  as  it  was 
characteristic  of  yourself.  I  thank  you  for  it,  and  for  the  spirit  which 
suggested  the  motion  you  made  at  the  meeting.  I  wonder  any  one 
should  doubt  that  I  should  meet  in  kindness  any  kind  proposition  from 
the  Association  :  I  have  no  unkind  feelings  towards  any  one  of  them. 
I  had  feelings  that  I  thought  a  little  unchristian  towards  one  of  them 
a  few  months  ago ;  I  will  tell  you  how  I  got  rid  of  them.  I  never 
said  anything  against  him  ;  I  said  all  the  good  things  I  knew  of  him  ; 
I  defended  him  several  times,  and  palliated  the  severe  judgment  others 
pronounced  on  him.  He  went  on  abusing  me  (so  I  think  it).  I 
avoided,  so  far  as  possible,  all  that  he  said  or  printed.  At  last  he 
did  what  I  think  was  really  a  shameful  thing,  and  most  unchristian 
towards  me,  and  now  I  feel  not  the  faintest  sparkle  of  unkindliness 
towards  him.  I  met  him,  not  long  ago,  and  shook  hands  with  him,  and 
feel  that  I  have  triumphed. 

I  will  meet  the  committee  any  time  that  it  is  possible  for  me  to  see 
them,  and  will  most  cheerfully  entertain  any  proposition  they  shall 
make.  I  think  you  could  not  have  made  a  better  selection  of  persons 
for  the  work ;  for  (excuse  me  for  saying  it)  there  are  no  members  of  the 
Unitarian  ministry  that  I  prize  more  highly  than  these  three.  Still  I 
don't  see  what  we  can  do.  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  convert  you  to  my 
belief;  I  think  you  will  not  in  a  few  hours  alter  my  convictions, 
deliberately  formed,  examined  and  re-examined  again  and  again  before 
they  were  given  to  the  world.  "What  I  wish  is,  that  the  Boston  Asso- 


THEODORE    PARKER.  251 

elation  would  fall  back  on  the  large  principles  which  I  once  thought 
they  all  entertained — remembering  that  theology  came  from  the  head, 
and  religion  from  the  heart ;  that  while  there  is  only  one  religion,  there 
may  be  a  great  many  and  quite  diverse  theologies,  each  imperfect, 
yet  each  helping  towards  the  truth,  and  that  a  man  may  have  the 
Christian  religion  in  his  heart  and  live  it,  too,  who  has  neither  your 
theology  nor  mine.  I  wish  they  would  allow  each  man  the  Christian 
name  who  claims  it  and  lives  a  Christian  life,  leaving  the  defence  of 
that  name  and  its  definition  to  himself.  Then,  too,  I  wish  they  would 
treat  matters  of  science  (and  such  I  reckon  both  theological  doubts 
and  theological  affirmations)  as  matters  of  science  and  not  as  proofs 
of  a  good  heart  or  a  bad  one.  I  may  have  many  astronomical  errors ; 
they  come  from  my  Heart  and  Will  quite  as  much  as  any  theological 
heresies  ;  yet  no  man  would  refer  the  first  to  a  wicked  heart,  nor  think 
to  make  me  orthodox  in  my  astronomy  by  calling  me  hard  names.  I 
know  some  of  the  brethren  are  offended  at  that  poor  sermon  of  mine 
at  the  Thursday  lecture.  But  yet,  at  the  very  last  meeting  of  the 
Association  which  I  attended,  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  it  was  stated  to  be 
advisable  that  the  preachers  should  treat  such  matters  as  would  dis 
close  their  views.  I  have  heard  sermons  there  from  some  of  the 
brothers  that  are  quite  distasteful  to  me.  But  I  did  not  feel  impli 
cated  in  a  sermon  of  Mr.  Young's  or  Dr.  Pierce's,  only  in  my  own. 
I  will  not  trouble  you  with  more  of  my  hasty  scrawls,  but  will  thank 
you  again  for 'all  your  kindness,  and  assure  you  that  I  shall  not  tread 
such  a  pearl  as  you  offer  under  my  feet. — Believe  me,  yours  truly, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  28th  Feb.,  1845. 

DEAR  SIB, — I  understand  that  at  the  last  meeting  of  the  Association, 
the  management  of  the  "  great  and  Thursday  Lecture"  was  transferred 
to  the  hands  of  the  minister  of  the  First  Church,  to  whom  it  originally 
belonged.  I  do  not  know  what  was  the  design  of  this  movement,  but 
I  know  well  that  its  effect  will  be  to  exclude  me  from  preaching  that 
lecture.  I  find  no  fault  now  with  this,  though  for  the  honour  of  the 
Unitarians  I  could  wish,  if  that  were  the  design,  that  it  had  been 
effected  in  a  manner  not  so  circuitous  :  I  like  directness.  I  write  to 
ask  you — formerly,  if  not  now,  the  scribe  of  the  Association— to  inform 
me  of  the  facts  of  the  case.  Please  tell  me  what  was  the  design  of 
the  movement,  and  "  all  about  it."  Don't  think  I  am  offended,  for  I 
am  not,  and  have  no  personal  feelings  in  the  matter  at  all.  Does  the 
Association  make  any  public  statement  of  the  movement  they  have 
made  1 — Believe  me,  as  ever, 

Yours  faithfully, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  18th  Oct.,  1845. 

DEAB  SIB, — Mr.  Pierpont  told  me  that  you  informed  him  that  you 
once  prepared  some  resolutions,  intending  to  offer  them  at  a  meeting 


252  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

of  the  Boston  Association,  which  resolutions  had  reference  to  Mr.  Pier- 
pont's  leaving  the  city.  I  have  thought  for  a  good  while  that  his  depar 
ture  from  Boston  was  a  sign  of  the  times  that  ought  to  be  noticed  in 
some  way.  I  meant  to  ask  you  to  do  the  very  thing  you  intended  your 
self  to  do.  I  now  ask  you  to  do  it,  i.  c.  to  prepare  certain  resolutions 
expressing  the  fact  of  Mr.  Pierpont's  faithful  and  self-denying  labours 
in  this  city,  the  troubles  which  his  fidelity  and  zeal  have  brought  upon 
him,  and  also  the  fact  that  the  Association  feels  a  strong  sympathy  with 
him,  and  an  earnest  desire  for  his  welfare  and  usefulness.  It  seems  to 
me  the  Association  owes  this  to  a  man  who,  for  more  than  twenty 
years,  has  been  among  the  foremost  in  all  the  great  Christian  enter 
prises  of  the  day,  and  who  now  withdraws  from  the  city  and  the  state. 
I  beg  you  to  tell  me  soon  if  you  feel  disposed  to  do  this,  and  also  to 
inform  me  where  the  Association  will  meet  the  next  time,  for  I  wish  to 
be  present  also.  If  you  decline  offering  any  such  resolutions,  please 
send  this  letter  to  James  Clarke,  who,  I  think,  will  do  it,  though  I  had 
rather  it  should  come  from  you.  If  no  one  else  will  do  it,  I  shall  feel 
compelled  to  undertake  it  myself. 

Very  truly  yours, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 


TO   MES.    DALL. 

West  Roxbury,  30th  May,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  CABOLINE, — It  is  near  the  end  of  Anniversary  Week,  and 
I  wish  to  write  you  a  word  or  two.  You  need  not  fear  that  I  shall 
take  pains  to  withdraw  from  the  Unitarians,  who  are  separating  from 
me.  I  actually  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Boston  Association  a  few 
weeks  ago,  to  demonstrate  to  them  my  existence  as  a  member  thereof. 
I  was  received  as  you  may  imagine.  I  have  attended  their  conferences 
and  the  like,  and  my  opinion  is  confirmed  that,  as  a  sect,  they  are 
irretriveably  sold  to  bigotry.  The  race  of  scholars  is  getting  extinct 
among  them.  I  know  only  four — Francis,  Lamson,  Erothingham, 
Noyes.  You  know  what  their  influence  is;  the  majority  can  settle 
questions  without  the  aid  of  philosophy  or  learning.  I  shall  expect 
to  see  them  become  more  and  more  narrow  for  years  to  come.  It 
seems  to  be  written  on  the  iron  leaf  of  fate,  that  our  progress  in 
theology  shall  be  only  by  revolutions,  not  gradual  and  regular,  but 
spasmodic.  I  can  honour  a  man  who  differs  from  me,  who  abuses  me ; 
but,  at  the  same  time  that  I  admit  the  worth  of  many  of  the  Uni 
tarians,  I  must  deplore  the  false  and  unphilosophical  way  they  go  to 
work  in.  They  confound  theology  with  religion ;  they  then  think  that 
theology  must  be  studied,  not  as  a  science,  in  the  spirit  of  freedom, 
but  with  fear.  So  I  think  they  are  weaving  cobweb,  and  calling  it 
cloth ;  and  if  a  man  tears  asunder  their  cobweb-trousers  in  putting 
them  on,  they  call  out  "  Infidel !  "  and  if  he  complains  that  he  is  cold 
and  naked  when  he  wears  them  whole,  they  cry,  "  Away  with  him !" 
It  may  be  this  business  is  always  to  continue;  but  to-morrow  may 
bring  new  things ;  other  and  former  to-morrows  have  done  so.  I  trust 
in  the  future.  In  the  meantime,  I  learn  to  wait,  as  I  have  before 


THEODORE   PARKER.  253 

learned  to  labour.  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  kind  salutations,  and  to  be 
assured  that  I  shall  welcome  you  back  to  Boston  with  great  pleasure. 
Remember  me  tenderly  to  Mr.  Dall,  and  believe  me, 

Faithfully  yours, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

It  was  now  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  exchange  with  him.  The 
Rev.  J.  T.  Sargent,  who  was  a  minister  at  large,  and  preached  to 
the  poor  gathered  in  Suffolk  Street  Chapel,  continued  to  exchange 
with  him,  though  dissenting  from  his  views.  But  the  congrega 
tion  at  the  chapel  liked  to  hear  him.  The  executive  committee 
of  the  Fraternity  of  Churches  had  the  technical  right  of  asking 
Mr.  Sargent  not  to  admit  so  dangerous  a  man  into  that  pulpit. 
It  was  feared  that  the  poor  would  be  corrupted  and  misled. 
They  dreaded  his  influence.  What  an  influence  it  soon  became 
in  Boston,  and  the  region  round  about,  to  expose  the  causes  of 
pauperism  and  crime,  to  lift  up  the  hearts  of  sorrowful  men  and 
women,  to  bring  the  strong  moral  help  of  everlasting  truths  to 
a  languishing  society  !  He  could  not  preach  in  the  chapel,  and 
Mr.  Sargent  resigned  sooner  than  take  a  pledge  that  he  would 
not  exchange  with  him.  Mr.  Parker  became  a  minister  at  large, 
with  seven  thousand  names  upon  his  private  list  of  men  and 
women  who  depended  upon  him  for  comfort  and  guidance,  to 
whom  he  was  bound  to  minister  by  word  of  mouth  or  epistles 
from  his  own  hand,  and  with  a  parish  settled  in  almost  every 
town  from  East  to  "West,  centres  of  influence  and  sympathy 
whither  his  spirit  swiftly  ran  to  bless.  How  shallow  is  every 
technical  advantage ! 

Jan.  17,  1845. — Two  members  of  J.  F.  Clarke's  Society  came  here 
this  afternoon  to  state  to  me  that  in  the  Church  of  the  Disciples  there 
was  a  strong  feeling  about  my  exchanging  with  their  minister.  They 
came  with  the  kindest  intentions  to  notify  rne  of  the  fact — to  state, 
furthermore,  that  some  of  the  society  would  abandon  the  Church  if  I 
came.  But  I  think  the  principle  in  virtue  of  which  Clarke  asked  an 
exchange  is  true.  I  feel  inclined  to  live  out  this  principle. 

Frisck  auf,  mein  Herz!  Frisckauf!  I  am  shut  in,  but  shut  in  by 
G-od.  Shut  in  for  my  good.  What  I  can't  rejoice  in  for  itself  I  will 
welcome  as  a  quickener  of  humanity  and  faith. 

His  next  controversial  publication  was  "  A  Letter  to  the  Bos 
ton  Association  of  Congregational  Ministers,  touching  certain 
matters  of  their  Theology/'  In  a  sermon  preached  to  his  parish 
at  West  Roxbury,  he  thus  explains  his  object : — 

To  relieve  the  brethren  from  the  embarrassment  of  being  held  answer 
able  for  my  opinions  while  they  had  no  opportunity  of  showing  men 


254  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

how  much  they  differed  from  me,  I  address  them  a  public  letter.  .Now, 
only  two  possible  courses  can  be  conceived :  1.  To  reply  to  all  the  ques 
tions.  This,  I  know,  they  could  not  do,  for  there  was  the  greatest 
diversity  of  opinions  amongst  themselves.  They  could  not  agree.  2. 
Such  being  the  case,  they  could  state  to  me  and  the  public  that  they 
could  not  answer  my  letter  point  for  point,  because  they  were  not 
agreed. 

This  they  ought  to  have  done,  and  it  would  have  relieved  the 
Association  from  every  appearance  of  complicity  with  his  opinions, 
excepting  that  it  might  be  inferred  that  where  there  was  so  much 
disagreement  with  each  other,  there  must  be  some  virtual  agree 
ment  with  him. 

What  parishes  were  divided — what  sentences  were  written — 
what  feelings  were  displayed  !  But  it  will  not  be  profitable  to 
revive  the  details  of  the  controversy.  Several  liberal  men  said 
from  their  pulpits  that  the  right  of  free  preaching  must  be  main 
tained,  undisturbed  by  the  application  of  any  doctrinal  test.  Some 
valuable  discourses  were  thus  preached  in  favour  of  righteousness 
before  doctrine.  An  article  in  the  Examiner,  by  Dr.  Gannett,  was 
distinguished  for  its  impartiality  and  kindliness.  He  has  always 
sent  forth  his  generous  indignation  at  the  first  symptom  of  op 
pression.  There  are  letters  from  some  of  the  brethren,  testifying 
to  the  manly  and  equable  demeanor  of  Mr.  Parker  in  one  or 
two  conferences,  which  were  held  in  tbe  hope  of  discovering 
some  adjustment,  but  which,  of  course,  came  to  nothing. 

TO   MRS.    DALL. 

West  Roxbury,  14th  December,  1844. 

MY  DEA.B,  CAROLINE, — I  thank  you  for  remembering  me  in  the  midst 
of  so  much  happiness.  Yet  perhaps  it  does  not  seem  so  meritorious  in 
you ;  for  your  "  heart,  when  tilled  with  love  for  one,  grows  bountiful  to 
all."  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  so.  Most  of  our  common  theories  about 
love  are  foolish  ;  for  they  teach  that,  if  you  love  one,  you  must  forget 
all  the  rest.  In  short,  that  you  can't  follow  God  (or  your  husband) 
without  hating  your  father  and  mother.  I  subscribe  to  no  such  heresy. 
If  I  love  one  dearly,  I  am  all  the  more  likely  to  love  another,  or  several 
others,  strongly.  I  thought  the  wedding  service  in  the  church  a  little 
too  solemn.  Serious  must  all  weddings  be  where  the  parties  are 
thoughtful;  but  I  don't  like  a  dirge  in  a  flower-garden.  Dr.  Lowell's 
remarks  were  beautiful.  I  don't  know  whether  young  women  on  such 
occasions  hear  all  the  excellent  things  said  by  the  minister  ;  but  1  know, 
at  my  marriage,  I  thought  very  little  of  the  tine  sentences  which  Brother 
Young  ejaculated  with  pontifical  gravity. 

I  don't  believe  you  will  do  much  harm,  though  you  write  strong 
articles  in  favour  of  the  ministry  to  the  poor.  I  think  you  are  in  the 


THEODORE    PARKER.  255 

most  living  portion  of  the  ministry.  In  Boston,  I  always  thought  that  the 
chapels  for  the  poor  were  the  most  aristocratic  institutions  of  that 
blessed  city,  though  they  were  founded  with  the  noblest  intentions  and 
have  done  no  little  good.  I  believe  in  a  ministry  to  the  poor;  not  at  all 
in  chapels  for  the  poor.  Let  us  have  a  common  temple- — "  The  rich  and 
the  poor  meet  together."  The  newspapers  tell  you  about  Mr.  Sargent 
and  the  shabby  conduct  of  the  committee  of  the  Fraternity  of  Churches  ; 
at  least  you  will  see  it  in  the  Register.  It  proves  the  love  of  freedom 
which  these  "  liberal  Christians  "  have  at  heart. 

I  was  sorry  to  read  what  you  said  about  Torrey  ;*  for  I  took  him  to 
be  a  noble  man.  I  once  met  him — I  think  at  the  Chardon  Street  Con 
vention  ;  he  called  me  an  infidel.  But  I  wrote  him  a  letter,  since  his 
imprisonment,  telling  him  to  play  the  man,  that  his  position  was  noble 
as  that  of  the  Christian  martyrs.  His  answer  was  good,  though  his 
mind  now  and  then  wandered :  for  he  was  sick.  I  hope  you  are  mis 
taken. 

What  can  you  do  to  christianize  the  heart  of  the  slave-holder  ?  I 
think  there  is  a  great  deal  of  injustice  here  at  the  North  in  the  treat 
ment  which  the  strong  bestow  upon  the  weak,  and  am  not  well  pleased 
with  the  condition  of  domestic  service  in  Massachusetts.  I  was  going 
to  say  something  a  little  stronger.  Still  I  hate  slavery,  and  can't  find 
the  faintest  toleration  for  it.  Will  your  ministrations  reach  the  black 
directly  ?  I  suppose  you  must  christianize  men  before  you  can  make 
them  take  measures  to  liberate  their  slaves.  To  do  that  must  be  very 
hard  work. 

I  am  not  doing  much  externally  this  winter.  I  go  about  and  de 
liver  Lyceum  lectures,  here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  and  am  preparing 
something  for  the  next  winter.  I  am  also  getting  ready  a  volume  of 
"  Six  Lectures  on  Morality,  Theology,  and  Religion,"  which  will  see  the 
light  in  due  time. 

Tour  friend  and  brother, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  Sept.  21,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  CAEOLI^E, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter  of  the  other 
day,  for  I  am  always  glad  to  get  a  letter  from  you,  though  you 
sometimes  ask  questions  that  I  cannot  easily  answer  about  anti-slavery 
matters.  I  can't  give  you  just  the  information  you  want ;  perhaps  I 
have  been  obliged  to  keep  such  a  bright  look-out  in  theological  and 
philosophical  matters  for  several  years  that  I  have  fallen  behind-hand 
in  the  literature  of  the  reformers,  though  I  hope  not  in  the  spirit  of 
the  reforms,  or  in  zeal  for  their  advancement.  I  suppose  you  have 
Jay's  books ;  they  are  good  reading,  as  good  as  anything.  Then  the 
articles  now  publishing  in  the  Liberator  by  W.  I.  Bowditch  are  of 
great  value.  I  believe  four  numbers  have  already  appeared.  Equally 
good  are  the  articles  by  Dean  Palfrey  in  the  Boston  Whig,  on  the  slave- 
holding  power.  I  think  you  will  hardly  find  more  profitable  anti- 
slavery  reading  for  the  Society  than  these  afford  ;  I  think  some  one  in 

•  A  clergyman,  at  that  time  imprisoned  in  Baltimore  for  violation  of  the  Slave  Laws 
Of  Maryland. 


256  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

Portsmouth  must  take  the  Liberator  and  the  Whig,  and  if  so,  you  have  the 
matter  at  hand.  I  own  few  such  books,  though  I  have  now  just 
borrowed  over  a  bushel  of  anti-slavery  documents,  and  soon  as  I  am 
well  enough,  I  mean  to  read  up  on  the  subject  The  Liberty  Bell*  is  a 
good  thing,  and  I  am  thankful  you  mean  to  write  for  it.  I  mean  to 
write  something  if  I  can  do  so. 

The  Misses  Osgood  have  always  been  friends  of  me  and  mine:  noble 
women  are  they,  and  full  of  intelligence  and  piety.  I  fear  it  will 
always  be  the  fashion  for  the  Boston  Association  to  speak  ill  of  me 
until  the  dust  returns  to  the  earth  as  it  was.  For  myself  I  care  not. 
It  never  made  me  feel  the  smallest  unkindness  towards  them.  It  has 
sometimes  saved  them  from  more  severe  strictures,  for  I  do  not  like  to 
speak  hard  against  men  that  try  and  injure  me,  lest  a  little  of  the  old 
Adam  should  appear  in  my  own  heart.  However,  in  due  time,  the 
errors  and  follies  which  are  personal  with  me  will  pass  off  with  me,  and 
the  real  truth  that  is  in  my  doctrines  will  stand  free  of  my  follies,  and 
do  its  work.  ^  If  I  live  ten  years,  and  work  as  now,  I  hope  to  do 
something.  But  who  knows  ?  I  have  no  lack  of  faith — not  belief  in 
the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  in  the  Creed,  or  the  Catechism,  but  trust  in 
God.  I  am  content  to  walk  by  that.  I  often  find  I  can  feel  further 
than  I  can  see,  and  accordingly  I  rest  the  great  doctrines  of  Christianity 
not  on  reasoning,  but  reason  on  intuition. 

The  Eesurrection  in  its  common  sense  I  don't  believe.  But  the 
soul's  immortality  I  cannot  for  a  moment  doubt. 

TO    REV.   JOHN    PIERPONT. 

West  Roxbury,  15th  October,  1845. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  called  to  see  you  yesterday,  but  unluckily  missed  you, 
and  as  I  shall  not,  it  is  probable,  have  another  opportunity  to  take 
you  by  the  hand,  I  will  now  say  a  word  to  you  before  you  leave  Boston. 
None  can  regret  your  departure  more  than  I ;  we  have  not  been  much 
together ;  you  have  been  busy,  so  have  I,  therefore  I  have  not  seen  you 
so  often  as  I  could  always  have  wished.  But  I  have  always  "felt 
encouraged  and  strengthened  by  your  example,  and  that  long  before 
I  had  any  "troubles"  with  my  theological  "  brethren."  If  you  had 
done  as  the  other  ministers,  you  had  been  as  they  are — you  would  not 
now  be  leaving  Boston.  If  you  had  flattered  the  follies  and  winked  at 
the  sins  of  the  rich,  you  would  have  had,  not  your  reward — that  you 
have  now — but  their  reward,  I  mean  the  reward  of  the  ministers  you 
leave  behind.  But  you  have  chosen  another  part,  and  have  your 
reward,  a  little  different  from  theirs.  You  must  go  in  triumph,  for 
you  have  fought  a  good  fight  and  a  great  one.  For  nearly  thirty 
years  you  have  been  foremost  in  all  the  great  reforms  of  the  day  which 
had  the  welfare  of  men  for  their  object ;  you  have  been  fearless  before 
force.  If  others  did  not  help  you,  you  thought  that  was  a  reason  why 
you  should  work  the  more.  When  your  valour  was  called  for,  you  did 

*  For  a  number  of  years  pxiblished,  by  gratuitous  contribution  of  articles  from  promi 
nent  Anti-Slavery  persons,  for  sale  at  the  Annual  Fair  of  the  Massachusetts  Anti-Slavery 
Society. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  257 

not  turn  round  to  remember  your  discretion.  None  of  the  great 
moral  enterprises  of  the  day  would  have  stood  where  now  they  stand  if 
you  had  not  raised  your  manly  voice  in  their  behalf.  Where  would 
Temperance  have  been  if  John  Pierpont  had  been  silent  ?  Where 
many  other  good  and  noble  causes?  It  is  your  zeal  for  the  great 
cause  which  Jesus  died  to  serve  that  now  has  brought  you  to  your 
present  position.  Your  reward  is  with  you.  The  confidence  that  you 
worked  faithfully  and  wrought  a  great  work  will  go  with  you  and  bless 
you  to  the  end  of  your  days.  Nothing  has  happened  for  years  so 
reflecting  disgrace  on  the  Boston  clergy  as  your  departure  from  the 
city  under  the  present  circumstances ;  but  what  is  their  disgrace  is 
your  glory.  Go,  and  may  Grod  be  with  you !  For  my  sake,  for  the 
sake  of  many,  I  could  wish  you  were  to  stay;  but  it  is  better  you 
should  go.  I  know  you  will  find  work  enough  to  be  done,  and  warm 
hearts  to  welcome  you  in  doing  it.  You  leave  behind  not  a  few  to 
bless  you  for  your  toils,  and  to  pray  for  your  future  success  and 
welfare.  Your  memory  will  live  ever  in  their  affections,  and  their 
good  wishes  will  follow  you  wherever  you  go.  I  beg  you  to  accept  my 
thanks  for  all  that  you  have  done,  and  to  believe  me  ever  your  friend 
and  brother. 

TO   DR.    FRANCIS. 

February,  1845. 

What  do  you  think  of  Newman's  opinions  on  the  "  Parmenides  ?  " 
He  thinks  it  was  written  in  mockery  of  Plato,  but  has  become  foisted 
in  with  his  works.  To  me  it  seems  a  most  ingenious  piece  of  persiflage 
of  Plato's,  to  show  the  absurdity  of  Parmenides'  logic.  He  shows  that 
you  can  prove  anything  by  it,  for  the  last  paragraph  concludes  that 
neither  the  one  nor  the  many  has  any  existence.  The  conclusion  is  not 
extant,  if  Plato  ever  finished  it.  Do  look  over  the  "  Parmenides  "  and 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  N.'s  opinion,  for  it  is  six  or  seven  years  since 
I  read  it. 

I  wonder  if  he  never  thought  that  much  of  our  popular  theology 
rests  on  no  better  foundation  than  Hartley's  vibratiuncles.  It  seems 
to  me  this  is  one  of  our  sins,  that  we  rest  on  facts  of  fancy,  and  so 
build  a  mythology  instead  of  a  theology.  On  an  imaginary  hook  only 
an  imaginary  garment  will  hang.  We  have  woven  a  good  many  cob 
webs  and  but  little  cloth;  the  cobwebs  look  imposing  at  sunrise, 
glittering  with  dew,  but  the  boy  walks  through  them,  and  at  noon  no 
man  can  find  one  of  them. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

May  28,  1845. — Attended  the  anti-capital  punishment  meeting; 
nothing  remarkable,  but  as  a  sign  of  the  times.  Soon  this  sin  of 
judicial  murder  will  be  over.  Notice  the  remarkable  variety  of  persons : 
all  conditions  were  represented  there.  Saw  Mr.  Porter,  my  critical  foe,  or 
friend.*  I  told  him  that  I  actually  wore  a  hat  and  no  turban.  Saw, 
too,  Mr.  Bushnell.  Had  a  very  pleasant  talk  with  them  about  the 

*  Professor  Porter,  of  New  Haven,  who  wrote  a  kindly  and  discriminating  article  in 
the  New  Englander,  July,  1845. 

18 


258  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

miracles.  They  do  not  think  miracles  a  violation  of  law,  or  anything 
like  it.  They  take  the  ground  that  God  has  imparted,  or  continually 
imparts,  to  nature  a  certain  power,  so  that  only  certain  circumstances 
take  place  ;  new  things  also  follow.  Well :  here  was  a  remarkable  con 
dition  of  the  human  race,  and  so  a  child  is  miraculously  born,  and 
capable  of  working  miracles  all  his  life.  Should  the  same  condition  of 
the  human  race  return,  like  results  are  to  be  expected. 

May  30. — What  is  to  come  of  my  position,  I  know  not.  Am  I  to 
stand  always  alone,  and  when  I  go  down  shall  all  this  movement  end  ? 
I  cannot  believe  it.  And  yet  it  seems  that  no  man  is  like  to  rise 
up  and  take  my  place  and  help  forward  my  work.  Let  the  truth 
prevail. 

TO   DR.    LAMSON. 

July  19,  1845. 

I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  noble  address  *  yesterday.  It  was  just 
the  thing  that  is  wanting.  I  regard  it  as  laying  the  corner-stone  of  a 
grand  and  noble  edifice  of  theology.  I  hope  you  will  not  allow  it  to  be 
spoiled  in  printing.  Do,  for  Heaven's  sake,  print  strong,  very  strong, 
and  not  let  it  be  spoiled.  I  liked  it  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  and  think 
great  good  will  come  of  it. 

Tours  in  haste. 

TO'  REV.    INCREASE   S.    SMITH. 

November  10,  1845. 

It  would  give  me  great  joy  to  come  over  to  your  meeting  next 
Thursday,  if  it  were  possible  ;  but  consider,  all  summer  long  I  could  not 
work.  I  stuck  in  the  ground  like  a  turnip,  only  I  could  not  perceive 
that  I  grew.  Now  I  begin  to  work  again.  I  can  think  a  little,  read 
and  write.  I  must  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines,  for  my  mind- 
weather  is  not  to  be  depended  on  to  last  long,  certainly  not  all  the  year. 
Then,  besides,  I  am  obliged,  conscience  compelling,  to  lecture  all  over 
the  land  ;  on  Friday  night  at  Fall  Eiver.  Further  still,  I  am  writing  a 
work  on  the  Reformation,  which  demands  all  my  spare  hours ;  there 
fore  you  see  why  I  hold  myself  excused.  I  should  be  amazingly  glad 
to  come  and  share  your  hospitality,  and  enjoy  the  society  of  yourself 
and  yours ;  but  when  a  whole  Garrison  is  to  take  the  field,  and  there  is 
such  a  stalwart  Smith  there  ready  to  lay  on  iron  strokes,  I  think  it 
needless  that  a  Parker  should  be  called  on  to  beat  the  bush  when  the 
others  will  capture  the  game.  For  me,  I  prefer  to  go  and  labour  in 
places  where  there  is  not  a  Smith  in  the  land. 

TO   DE    WETTE. 

West  Roxbury,  28th  September,  1845. 

HONOEED  AND  DEAB  SIE, — I  received  from  you  some  time  since 
the  sixth  edition  of  your  Einleitung  ins  A.  T.,  which  you  had  the  polite 
ness  to  send  me.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness.  My 

*  "Plea  for  Theology" — delivered  before  the  Association  of  the  Alumni  of  the  Cam 
bridge  Theological  School,  July  18,  1845.  Printed  in  the  Christian  Examiner  for 
November,  1845. 


I 

/ 

THEODORE   PARKER.  259 

translation  of  your  work  has  not  produced  the  effect  here  which  it  is 
yet  destined  to  do.  The  Liberal  party,  in  fact,  are  weak ;  the  so-called 
Liberal  party,  the  Unitarians,  are  partly  afraid  and  partly  hypocritical. 
None  of  the  stout  critics  had  touched  it,  until  recently  Moses  Stuart, 
Professor  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover — a  learned  man  of 
the  Hengstenberg-Richtung  (tendency) — published  a  work  called  "  A 
Critical  History  and  Defence  of  the  Old  Testament  Canon."  In  this 
he  refers  continually  to  your  views,  and  of  course  attacks  them ;  but 
he  always  treats  them  with  respect,  and  entertains  a  high  esteem  for 
yourself  as  a  critic  and  a  scholar.  He  attacks  also  Mr.  Norton,  and 
treats  him  with  less  respect  than  yourself.  Mr.  S.'s  book  will  have  a 
wide  circulation  here,  but  in  Germany  it  would  be  considered  ganz 
unbedeutend  (quite  unimportant).  Here  is  a  small  party  who  think 
that  Christianity  is  the  Word  of  God ;  but  the  documents  connected 
therewith,  like  the  institutions  connected  with  it  also,  are  to  be  treated 
like  other  documents,  criticized,  studied,  and  believed  only  when  they 
are  probable.  None  of  our  conspicuous  theologians  belong  to  this 
class ;  a  traditionary  theology  is  the  curse  of  the  Church  in  America. 
But  I  have  strong  hopes  that  to-morrow  will  be  brighter  than  to-day. 
In  a  country  where  the  mind  is  in  general  so  free  as  it  is  here,  theology, 
cannot  always  be  kept  from  becoming  a  science.  I  hope  much  from 
the  introduction  of  German  thought  into  America,  especially  from  your 
own  writings.  I  am  at  present  preaching  each  Sunday  to  a  large  con 
gregation  of  Liberal  Christians  in  Boston.*  But  I  am  called  a  heretic 
by  my  Unitarian  brothers,  who  are  themseJves  called  heretics  and 
infidels  by  all  the  rest.  I  am  also  preparing  a  work  on  the  Protestant 
Reformation,  its  causes  and  its  consequences.  When  that  is  done,  I 
mean  to  write  a  history  of  the  progress  of  thought  in  matters  of  theo 
logy  and  religion  from  the  Reformation  to  this  day.  I  intend  also  to 
prepare,  with  your  help,  a  critical  and  historical  introduction  to  the 

New  Testament If  you   prepare  a  new  edition  of  your  Ein- 

leitung  in  das  N.  Z1.,  and  will  send  it  me,  it  will  be  a  lavour.  My  trans 
lation  is  printed  with  stereotype  plates,  and  therefore  it  is  costly  to 
make  alterations  from  one  edition  to  another ;  but  of  course  I  shall 
in  the  next  edition  notice  the  points  in  which  you  have  differed  from 
your  earlier  opinions.  When  you  print  a  seventh  edition  I  will  thank 
you  to  send  it  me. 

With  sincere  desires  for  your  long  life  and  continued  happiness,  I 
remain  your  friend  and  obedient  servant. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

Feb.  7,  1845. — I  have  just  conferred  with  part  of  a  committee  for 
procuring  a  place  in  Boston  for  me  to  preach  in.  I  consent  for  two 
Sundays,  commencing  on  the  16th,  and,  if  it  is  possible,  to  continue  to 
preach  for  them  every  Sunday  morning  for  a  year.  I  know  not  what 
will  come  of  it.  I  don't  wish  ever  to  leave  my  Patmos  at  Spring 
Street.  If  the  parish  will  consent,  I  will  continue  here  and  preach 
half  the  time,  and  furnish  a  substitute  the  rest  of  the  time. 

*  See  the  next  extract  from  the  Journal. 


260  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

The  parish  consented. 

I  know  not  what  will  come  of  it,  hut  think  only  good.  God  grant 
it  shall  he  so !  There  is  much  to  conserve,  there  'is  somewhat  also  to 
destroy. 

16th. — To-day  I  have  preached  at  the  Melodeon,  for  the  first  time. 
The  weather  was  highly  unfavourable — rainy,  and  the  snow  deep — the 
streets  passable  only  with  difficulty.  Still,  there  was  a  large  audience, 
mostly  of  men,  unlike  most  of  my  audiences.  I  felt  the  greatness  of 
the  occasion,  hut  I  felt  it  too  much  to  do  justice,  perhaps,  to  myself. 
I  felt  not  at  ease  in  my  service.  I  felt  as  one  that  is  with  some  friends, 
with  some  foes,  with  many  strangers.  It  has  heen  a  day  of  struggles. 
A  long,  long  warfare  opens  before  me !  Shall  I  prove  worthy  ?  How 
much  can  I  do  ?  How  much  can  I  bear  ?  I  know  not.  I  look  only 
to  the  soul  of  my  soul,  not  with  over-confidence  in  myself,  but  with  an 
adamantine  faith  in  God. 

The  greeting  of  some  friends  did  me  much  good.  I  love  to  take  a 

friend  by  the  hand.  Mrs. came  into  the  little  room,  and  took  me 

by  the  hand.  I  am  a  child  in  some  things,  I  hope  I  shall  always  be. 

March  3.— I  have  but  one  resource,  and  that  is  to  overcome  evil 
with  good — much  evil  with  more  good  ;  old  evil  with  new  good.  Some 
times  when  I  receive  a  fresh  insult  it  makes  my  blood  rise  for  a  mo 
ment  ;  then  it  is  over,  and  I  seek,  if  possible,  to  do  some  good,  secretly, 
to  the  person.  It  takes  away  the  grief  of  a  wound  amazingly.  To  be 
true  to  God,  and  "  that  one  talent  which  'tis  death  to  hide  " — this 
depends  on  me.  To  know  that  I  am  thus  true  depends  on  others, 
and  if  they  know  it  not,  why  that  is  not  my  affair,  but  theirs !  Some 
times  I  wish  that  death  would  come  and  fan  me  to  sleep  with  his 
wings  :  but  faith  soon  stops  that  murmur,  and  a  "  Thy  will  be  done ! " 
is  prayer  enough  for  me. 

During  this  winter  of  1844—45  he  lectured  forty  times. 

At  New  Bedford  I  saw  some  interesting  persons.  Andrew  Eobeson 
I  admire,  and  love  as  I  love  few  men.  I  look  at  him  with  rapture. 
He  is  my  ideal  almost  of  a  rich  man,  a  Christian  man.  I  speak  not  of 
his  kindness  to  me,  but  of  his  character,  his  life.  I  know  not  why, 
but  I  love  better  the  society  of  such  than  the  companionship  of  the 
most  cultivated  men.  They  meet  you,  and  don't  dodge. 

Sometimes  I  feel  a  little  satisfied  with  myself.  Then  I  always  know 
that  some  mortification  is  preparing  for  me  ;  all  my  swans  prove  geese 
soon  as  they  begin  to  sing. 

The  old  trouble  in  his  head  recurred,  and  he  lost  a  great  many 
days.  He  called  them  lost,  but  they  were  filled  with  respectable 
labour.  Still,  the  physicians  reduced  him  to  the  smallest  amount 
that  was  compatible  with  his  peace  of  mind.  He  often  left  his 
sermon  unfinished,  and  wandered  listlessly  into  the  fields.  Some 
times  he  went  to  see  the  brave  people  at  Brook  Farm. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  261 

His  preaching  in  Boston  attained  a  popularity  which  aston 
ished  him.  The  Melodeon  was  crowded  with  a  keen,  sturdy,  and 
inquisitive  audience,  many  of  whom  had  never  before  been 
submitted  to  the  influence  of  positive  religion.  His  manly 
piety  and  powerful  assaults  upon  the  conscience,  his  humor  and 
good  sense,  above  all,  the  manifestation  of  his  love  for  man,  won 
them  from  curiosity  into  reverence  and  exalted  feelings.  He 
did  not  believe  that  he  should  be  able  to  sustain  himself  long- 
before  such  a  congregation.  He  had  always  been  told  that  he 
was  a  mere  book-worm,  and  he  loved  meditation  and  seclusion. 
He  was  surprised  and  delighted  when  he  found  his  words 
taking  a  genuine  hold  upon  the  people. 

Occasionally  there  was  a  chance,  by  exchange  with  some 
liberal  brother,  to  preach  in  another  pulpit.  He  never  failed  to 
impress  people  if  they  did  not  know  him,  or  know  that  he  was 
coming.  If  they  did,  the  opinion  would  be  divided.  An  excel 
lent  person  lingered  in  Mr.  Clarke's  vestibule,  after  9 ne  of  these 
sermons,  loud  in  her  grateful  praises.  "  Oh,  I  wish  that  infidel 
Theodore  Parker  could  have  heard  that !  "  Yes,  indeed,  such 
love  to  God  and  man,  flowing  forth  strongly  in  such  lucid  speech, 
found  the  great  want  in  every  unguarded  heart. 

November  27. — To-day  my  friends  met  in  Boston  to  organize  more 
fully,  with  a  view  to  my  settling  with  them.  I  would  gladly  for  my 
own  quiet  remain  always  here,  but  I  shall  go  to  Boston  and  work, 
if  they  need  me,  and  wish  me.  I  pray  for  this  only,  that  I  may  be 
greatly  good  and  pious,  and  thereby  greatly  useful  unto  man.  If 
I  pass  ten  years  in  Boston,  labouring  at  that  church,  I  may  do  some 
thing,  it  seems  to  me.  If  not,  why  I  have  done  my  best,  and  will  not 
complain. 

My  chosen  walk  will  he  with  the  humble.  I  will  be  the  minister 
of  the  humble,  and,  with  what  of  culture  and  love  I  have,  will  I  toil  for 
them.  I  rejoice  to  see  that  most  of  my  hearers  are  from  the  humbler 
class  of  men.  If  it  had  been  only  the  cultivated  and  the  rich,  I  should 
feel  that  I  was  wrong  somewhere  ;  but  when  the  voice  comes  up  from 
the  ground,  I  can't  refuse  to  listen  to  it. 

Those  aspirations  preserved  their  warmth  and  purity ;  every 
gift  and  acquisition  was  subservient  to  feed  them  alone.  Did 
any  man,  of  so  strong  a  mould  and  of  such  ardent  sensibilities, 
ever  have  more  innocent  ambitions  ? 

TO    DR.    JOHN   WARE. 

West  Roxbury,  2nd  January,  1846. 

DEAR  SIB, — I  hope  you  will  excuse  a  stranger  for  venturing  to  address 
you  a  letter.  At  any" rate,  I  shall  take  the  liberty.  Tour  memoir  of 


262  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

your  brother  has  affected  me  so  deeply,  that  I  cannot  forbear  expressing 
my  gratitude  that  you  have  prepared  so  noble  a  memorial  of  so  noble  a 
man.  Sir,  I  knew  your  brother  well.  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  in 
the  Theological  School  two  or  three  years,  while  it  most  fully  enjoyed 
his  services.  I  loved  him  as  I  have  seldom  loved  a  man  heretofore,  and 
perhaps  shall  never  love  another.  He  was  not  always  equal — sometimes 
was  absent,  and  seemed  cold.  But  he  drew  my  heart  after  him  by  the 
very  tones  of  his  voice,  by  his  look  and  his  kind  way  of  speaking  to  a 
young  man.  He  never  flattered.  He  told  truth,  and  did  not  wound, 
even  though  it  was  a  painful  truth.  I  can't  believe  any  student  ever 
slighted  any  hint  he  gave.  I  treasured  up  his  words  as  oracles — not 
Delphic,  but  Christian.  His  presence  at  our  religious  meetings  was  the 
presence  of  a  saint ;  it  was  the  fragrance  of  violets  in  a  library ;  and  we 
felt  it.  He  tuned  the  most  discordant  strings. 

His  lectures,  I  mean  those  delivered  before  the  whole  school,  were 
not  professedly  religious  ;  but  they  brought  a  man  step  by  step  to  the 
throne  of  God,  and  before  he  knew  it  he  knelt  and  prayed.  His  in 
fluence  was  wholly  through  his  holiness.  But  that  affected  all  he  said 
and  did.  His  opinions  on  books  we  received  as  from  no  other  man  who 
knew  much  more  of  books.  I  used  often  to  hear  Dr.  Channing  preach  in 
the  morning,  and  in  the  afternoon  your  brother,  at  the  chapel.  I  have 
heard  Dr.  Channing,  perhaps,  preach  some  of  his  best  sermons ;  but  I 
could  not  tell  which  I  liked  best,  Dr.  C.  or  Henry  Ware.  One  had  the 
magnificence  of  religious  thought,  the  other  had  the  heavenliness  of 
piety. 

Your  brother  began  moderately,  with  no  promise  of  a  great  soul- 
stirring  sermon;  but  gradually  he  gained  greatness  of  thought,  and 
lovely  images,  and  a  sweetness  and  poetry  of  devotion  and  trust  in  God 
which  charmed  your  heart  away.  And  then  his  prayers  !  I  have  heard 
none  such.  I  know  nothing  to  compare  them  with,  public  or  private, 
unless  it  be  the  music  I  have  heard  sometimes  in  a  cathedral,  when  one 
little  voice  begins — like  our  own  thrush  in  the  mornings  of  May — and 
softly,  gently  sings  out  strains  exquisitely  tender ;  then  comes  another, 
different  but  accordant ;  and  then  another,  and  so  on  till  every  column, 
arch,  altar-stone  seems  vibrating  with  the  psalm.  His  arrow  kindled 
as  it  rose,  and  disappeared  a  flame. 

When  I  left  the  school  I  always  went  to  him  for  advice,  criticism, 
help,  and  I  always  found  it — found  more  than  I  asked.  At  my  ordi 
nation  he  laid  his  hand  on  my  head — and  I  believe  in  the  imposition  of 
such  a  hand — and  prayed  words  that  not  only  /  shall  never  forget,  but 
the  people  of  this  church  still  lovingly  remember. 

Your  memoir  brings  him  back  to  me  just  as  I  knew  him.  He  tells 
often  his  own  story,  and  lives  again  before  me.  I  carried  to  England 
and  Geneva  the  tidings  of  his  end,  and  you  know  what  hearts  they 
were  that  loved  him,  and  may  judge  of  their  grief.  He  has  gone,  and 
your  father,  too !  They  were  not  long  separated,  now  again  are  toge 
ther  with  the  Father  of  us  all.  They  both  prophesy  after  their  death, 
and  both  will  be  ever  remembered  by  one  who  gratefully  received 
instruction  and  counsel  from  each. 

I  am,  sir, 

Your  obliged  servant, 

T.P. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  263 

In  the  year  3845,  he  opened  a  friendship  with  Charles 
Sumner,  which  became  valuable  to  both  of  them,  and  was 
ennobled  by  a  mutual  sense  of  fidelity  to  truth  and  of  suffering 
in  her  service.  Mr.  Parker  made  a  characteristic  advance,  in  an 
acknowledgment  of  Mr.  Sumner's  oration  on  the  "True  Gran 
deur  of  Nations  ; "  its  principles  were  dear  to  his  heart,  and  with 
his  customary  unselfishness  he  proffered  welcome  and  admiration. 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  one  so  nearly  a  stranger  to  you  as  myself,  for 
addressing  you  this  note.  But  I  cannot  forbear  writing.  I  have  just 
read  your  oration  on  the  "True  Grandeur  of  Nations  "  for  the  second 
time,  and  write  to  express  to  you  my  sense  of  the  great  value  of  that 
work,  and  my  gratitude  to  you  for  delivering  it  on  such  an  occasion. 
Boston  is  a  queer  little  city,  the  public  is  a  desperate  tyrant  there,  and 
it  is  seldom  that  one  dares  disobey  the  commands  of  public  opinion.  I 
know  the  reproaches  you  have  already  received  from  your  friends,  who 
will  now,  perhaps,  become  your  foes.  I  have  heard  all  sorts  of  ill 
motives  attributed  to  you,  and  know  that  you  must  suffer  attack  from 
men  of  low  morals,  who  can  only  swear  by  their  party,  and  who  live 
only  in  public  opinion. 

I  hope  you  will  find  a  rich  reward  in  the  certainty  that  you  have 
done  a  duty  and  a  service  to  mankind." 

A  society  had  been  organized  at  the  Melodeon,  and  he  accepted 
its  call  in  December.  His  parish  made  mournful  preparations 
for  his  departure  : — 

FROM  THE  JOURNAL. 

The  Parish  Committee  have  been  here  to  consult  about  my  leaving 
the  church.  It  seems  worse  than  assisting  at  my  own  funeral — the 
only  real  calamity  that  has  befallen  me  in  the  ecclesiastical  way ;  all  the 
other  troubles  have  been  blessings  in  a  mask — this  is  a  sorrow.  How 
can  I  bear  to  stand  in  the  dear  old  familiar  pulpit  for  the  last  time, 
and  look  in  the  dear  old  faces  for  the  last  time  out  of  that  pulpit  ? 
But  it  must  be,  and  soon  will  be.  I  cling  tenaciously  to  all  I  ever 
loved.  I  even  hate  to  lose  sight  of  a  departing  cloud.  Well,  perhaps 
this  also  will  be  a  good — to  those  dear  old  friends,  to  me,  to  all. 

TO   THE   SECOND   PARISH   IN    ROXBURY. 

West  Roxbury,  3rd  Jan.,  1846. 

DEAR  PEIENDS, — It  is  with  great  grief  that  I  write  you  this  note, 
fixing  the  second  Sunday  in  February  next  as  the  day  of  resigning  my 
connection  with  you.  Circumstances  which  I  could  neither  prevent 
nor  foresee  constrain  me  to  leave  a  place  which  has  become  dearer  to  me 
each  year  I  have  filled  it — a  place  in  which  I  had  fondly  hoped  to  live 
long  and  usefully,  and  die  as  I  had  lived  amongst  you.  I  need  not  say 
now  how  painful  the  separation  will  be  to  me,  for  I  think  you  all  know 
that ;  I  need  not  say  that  no  personal  ambition  leads  me  to  this  step, 
for  I  think  you  all  know  the  circumstances  of  this  case  too  well,  and 


264  .LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

know  me  too  well  to  believe  for  a  moment  it  is  so.  If  my  brethren  of 
the  Christian  ministry  had  stood  by  me,  nay,  if  they  had  not  themselves 
refused  the  usual  ministerial  fellowship  with  me,  then  I  should  have 
been  spared  this  painful  separation,  and  my  life  might  have  flowed  on  in 
the  channel  we  have  both  wished  for  it.  But  I  bear  no  ill-will  to  my 
brethren.  I  trust  you  will  bear  none  ;  I  hope  you  may  again  hear  their 
voices  in  your  own  church,  and  be  again  instructed  by  their  words.  I 
shall  soon  cease  to  be  your  minister ;  I  shall  never  cease  to  be  your 
friend.  I  hope  long  to  be  your  neighbour  and  fellow-citizen.  But 
wherever  I  am,  I  shall  always  feel  grateful  for  the  uniform  kindness  and 
forbearance  you  have  shown  towards  me.  There  is  nothing  in  all  your 
dealings  with  me  which  I  could  wish  otherwise.  You  have  borne 
patiently  with  my  infirmities,  and  if  I  have  ever  had  a  new  truth  to 
offer,  though  scholars  and  clergymen  treated  it  with  scorn,  you  welcomed 
the  word  to  your  hearts,  and  heard  it  gladly.  When  my  personal  friends 
forsook  me  and  fell  off,  you  stood  by  me.  Tour  hearty  sympathy  has 
been  of  more  value  to  me  than  words  can  tell.  Think  not  I  shall  ever 
forget  that.  And  now  I  am  obliged  to  leave  you.  But  my  heart  never 
shall  leave  you.  My  desire  is  to  remain  still  with  you ;  my  duty  com 
mands  me  elsewhere.  If  I  am  ever  able  to  serve  you  in  any  way,  I 
beg  you  to  consider  me  still  your  servant,  and  always  your  friend.  It 
will  always  give  me  pleasure  to  be  of  use  to  you. 

With  the  best  wishes  for  your  success,  I  remain  affectionately,  your 
friend  and  Christian  brother. 

On  January  4,  1846,  he  was  installed  over  the  Twenty- 
eighth  Congregational  Society,  in  Boston,  preaching  his  own 
sermons — tender,  brave,  unsparing,  and  humane — on  the  True 
Idea  of  a  Christian  Church.  That  was  the  first  of  a  long  series 
of  discourses,  rich  with  the  application  of  religion  to  life, 
through  facts,  criticisms,  and  ideas,  which  made  the  designation 
of  the  "  Twenty-eighth  Congregational "  famous  at  home  and 
abroad. 

Mr.  Parker  had  several  times  been  to  Andover  for  books  and 
conversation  with  the  professors.  He  knew  Professor  Stuart, 
who,  acknowledging  some  publications  in  the  autumn  of  1845, 
addresses  Mr.  Parker  in  terms  which  show  a  scholarly  and  mag 
nanimous  recognition : — 

Accept  the  accompanying  little  volume  as  a  small  return  for  your 
kindness. 

As  to  the  liberty  which  I  have  taken  to  controvert  some  of  your 
opinions,  you  are  the  last  man  to  call  this  in  question.  You  will  see, 
that  in  drawing  the  comparison  between  you  and  your  non-committal 
opponents,  I  have  given  you  the  preference.  No  half- way  measures  are 
consistent  in  such  a  case.  The  Bible  is  either  the  word  of  God,  or  else 
it  is  only  a  part  of  the  book  of  nature,  standing  on  the  same  level  with 
Plato,  Plutarch,  Cicero,  Seneca,  and  others  of  the  like  class.  I  under- 


THEODORE   PARKER.  265 

stand  you  as  taking  the  latter  position,  with  the  modification  that  the 
New  Testament,  in  particular,  contains  a  more  thorough  and  explicit 
morality  and  religiosity.  Mr.  Norton  will  not  relish  the  preference  I 
have  given  to  your  views,  in  comparison  with  his.  I  cannot  help  it ;  I 
have  only  spoken  my  deep  convictions. 

I  have  more  hope  that  you  will  yet  be  won  over  to  orthodoxy,  than 
that  he  will.  Not  because  you  are  less  sincere  and  ardent  in  your 
present  views,  but  because  you  let  Keason  have  full  play,  and  carry  you 
wherever  you  think  she  leads.  A  thousand  things  may  yet  change 
your  views  of  the  nature  and  necessity  of  Christianity — things  not  in 
your  hands,  nor  mine,  but  in  the  hands  of  Him  who  has  life,  comfort, 
prospects,  hopes,  convictions  even,  entirely  at  His  disposal. 

What  I  have  said  to  Mr.  Norton,  I  can  truly  say  to  you — Utinam 
nostrum  esset ! 

In  speaking  plainly  my  convictions,  which  I  have  felt  obliged  to  do, 
I  hope  and  trust  that  I  have  not  transgressed  the  laws  of  courtesy.  I 
arn,  with  kind  regards,  however  we  may  diner  in  opinion,  your  friend 
and  obedient  servant,  M.  STTTABT. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  (1846)  he  spent  the  month  of 
July  in  a  journey  through  Western  New  York,  the  White 
Al  ountains,  and  Canada  ;  but  of  this  there  is  only  an  itinerary. 
Hough  drafts  abound,  notes  and  statistics,  hints,  anecdotes,  for 
the  sermon  of  merchants,  of  war,  of  pauperism,  on  the  state  of 
the  nation,  material  to  serve  the  discussion  of  slavery,  mixed 
with  a  great  variety  of  theological  and  philosophical  suggestions. 
His  activity  was  very  manifold  for  the  next  five  years.  The 
business  of  lecturing  had  greatly  increased,  and  his  reading  had 
not  diminished,  as  the  regular  lists  of  books  for  every  year  show 
plainly  enough  ;  and  yet  his  time  in  Boston  was  torn  to  pieces 
with  interruptions.  He  met  them  blandly,  and  his  business 
was  more  successfully  achieved,  for  obstacles  piqued  him  into 
great  wariness,  economy,  and  system.  He  used  to  say  that 
time  stretched  like  india-rubber.  Here  is  an  attempt  to  write 
a  sermon  : — 

I  had  been  to  the  Post- Office,  had  sewed  the  sheets  of  my  Easter 
sermon  together,  and  sat  down  to  make  a  brief  of  the  matter,  when — 

1,  in  comes  Mrs.  K ,  to  talk  over  her  connubial  affairs.     She  stayed 

till  about  eleven,  when — 2,  in  comes  Mr.  McKay,  and  as  we  talked  of 
various  things  it  was  announced  that — 3.  Dr.  Papin  was  downstairs. 
I  went  to  see  him,  and — 4.  E-.  W.  Emerson  was  coming  up  the  stairs. 
I  left  hun  in  the  study,  and  saw  the  Doctor,  who  came  seeking  relief 
for  a  poor  woman  ;  then  returned,  and  we  talked  of  the  Ttew  journal : 
saw  Carlyle's  letter  about  Margaret.  Nos.  3,  4,  and  2  successively 
went  away.  I  was  descending  the  stairs,  when,  lo  ! — 5  appears,  Greorge 
Kipley,  and  we  talked  of  the  condition  of  civilization,  the  prospects  of 
humanity.  Dinner  came,  one  hour.  Went  to  see  Mr. :  not  at 


266  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

home ;  visited  other  people  in  the  afternoon  :  tea.  At  half-past  seven 
sat  down  to  the  sermon :  in  a  minute  came — 6,  Mr.  F.  C.,  wanting  to 
borrow  twelve  dollars,  which  I  lent  him  gladly.  Then  sat  down  to 

write  :  at  a  quarter  past  eight  came — 7,  Mr.  M .    All  chance  of  work 

was  now  at  an  end,  so  I  gave  up,  and  went  down  to  the  parlour.     A 

little  before  nine  came  a  ring,  and  then — 8  appeared,  Mr. ,  who 

was  interested  to  kill  a  man  that  had  done  a  wrong  to  one  of  his 
friends,  and  brought  a  letter  of  defiance.  I  burned  the  letter  after  a 
long  talk,  but  could  not  wholly  overcome  the  man's  feelings  of  revenge. 
At  ten  he  retired,  and  at  a  quarter  before  eleven,  I  also,  to  rest— not  to 
sleep  for  a  long  time. 

The  new  journal  referred  to  became  the  Massachusetts  Quar 
terly  Review,  of  which  he  reluctantly  undertook  the  co-editor 
ship  with  Mr.  Emerson  and  J.  E.  Cabot.  The  first  number 
appeared  in  December,  1847.  It  proposed  to  discuss  the 
questions  of  American  society  and  politics,  which  were  just 
beginning  to  assume  their  great  and  threatening  proportions,  of 
science,  and  of  theology.  Mr.  Emerson  prepared  the  editorial 
address,  from  which  this  is  an  extract : — 

"What  will  easily  seem  to  many  a  far  higher  question  than  aiiy  other 
is  that  which  respects  the  embodying  of  the  conscience  of  the  period. 
Is  the  age  we  live  in  unfriendly  to  the  highest  powers  ;  to  that  blend 
ing  of  the  affections  with  the  poetic  faculty  which  has  distinguished 
the  Religious  Ages?  We  have  a  better  opinion  of  the  economy  of 
nature  than  to  fear  that  those  varying  phases  which  humanity  presents 
ever  leave  out  any  of  the  grand  springs  of  human  action. 

In  the  rapid  decay  of  what  was  called  religion,  timid  and  unthinking 
people  fancy  a  decay  of  the  hope  of  man.  But  the  moral  and  religious 
sentiments  meet  us  everywhere,  alike  in  markets  as  in  churches.  A 
God  starts  up  behind  cotton  bales  also.  The  conscience  of  man  is 
regenerated  as  is  the  atmosphere,  so  that  society  cannot  be  debauched. 
That  health  which  we  call  virtue  is  an  equipoise  which  easily  redresses 
itself,  and  resembles  those  rocking-stones  which  a  child's  finger  can 
move,  and  a  weight  of  many  hundred  tons  cannot  overthrow. 

TO    A   FRIEND. 

DEAR  PRIEND, — When  you  come  to  see  me  again,  don't  ask  if  I  am 
busy,  but  come  in,  whether  or  not.  I  am  not  likely  to  be  too  busy  to 
see  you.  If  I  am,  I  will  tell  you  frankly. 

I  want  to  see  you  very  much.  We  need  a  new  periodical,  for  phi 
losophy,  literature,  theology,  religion,  and  practical  morality.  Are  not 

you  the  man  to  undertake  it  ?     If  not  you,  who  is  ?     Not ,  who 

has  not  the  culture,  the  patience,  the  stability  (in  place  or  idea)  ;  not 
,  who  is  too  ultramontane  for  the  nineteenth  century. 

We  want  a  tremendous  journal,  with  ability  in  its  arms  and  piety  in 
its  heart.  Cannot  you  do  something  for  it  ? 

Tours  heartily, 

T.  P. 


THEODORE  PARKER.  267 

TO  THE  SAME. 

DEAR  FEIEND, — The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  certain  I  am  that 

will  not  do  for  our  newly-talked-of  periodical.  He  has  not  the 

entireness,  not  the  firm  courage  which  we  want.  I  admit  he  has  much 
courage,  but  not  quite  enough.  Then,  too,  he  is  a  member  of  the 
Boston  Association.  They  would  whine  round  him  and  choke  the  life 
out  of  him  if  he  undertook,  not  to  say  a  manly  thing,  but  to  let  others 
say  it.  He  is  a  good  man ;  I  honour  him,  love  him,  expect  much  of 
him  :  but  I  don't  expect  that  which  we  want. 

We  don't  want  a  man  of  the  Middle  Ages,  but  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  for  our  work.  I  have  written  a  letter  to  Emerson,  asking 
him  to  undertake  the  matter.  If  he  will,  it  will  succeed.  He  is  the 
better  man,  if  he  will  take  hold.  He  is  a  downright  man  ;  we  never 
had  such  a  jewel  in  America  before.  I  think  him  worth  two  or  three 
of  Dr.  Cbanning. 

How  many  young  men  do  you  know  that  could  write  in  such  a  work  ? 
It  should  be  literary,  philosophical,  poetical,  theological,  and,  above 
all,  human — human  even  to  divinity.  I  think  we  may  find  help  in 
unexpected  quarters. 

Come,  and  let  us  talk  over  the  matter  one  of  these  days. 

TO   CHARLES   SUMNER. 

I  think  we  want  a  new  journal,  devoted  to  letters,  poetry,  art,  phi 
losophy,  theology,  politics  (in  the  best  sense  of  that  word),  and 
humanity  in  general.  You  know  better  than  I  the  North-American 
Review,  the  Christian  Examiner*  &c.  They  are  not  Jusqu'au  niveau  de 
Fhumanitc.  They  will  not  be,  cannot  be.  ihe  better  minds  of  the  age 
cannot  express  their  best  thoughts  therein.  If  there  were  such  a 
journal,  ably  conducted,  it  would  have  two  good  influences:  1.  It 
would  strike  a  salutary  terror  into  all  the  Ultrainontanists,  and  make 
them  see  that  they  did  not  live  in  the  Middle  Ages — that  they  are  not 
to  be  let  alone  dreaming  of  the  garden  of  Eden,  but  are  to  buckle  up 
and  work ;  2.  It  would  spread  abroad  the  ideas  which  now  wait  to  be 
organized,  some  in  letters,  some  in  art,  some  in  institutions  and  prac 
tical  life.  I  know  you  love  letters  not  less  than  law,  and  man  before 
both,  and  so  I  write  to  ask  you  what  you  think  of  the  matter — how  far 
you  would  aid  in  such  a  work  ?  Don't  suppose  I  want  to  be  one  of  the 
head  and  front  of  this  movement ;  I  want  no  such  thing,  but  not  to 
appear  at  all.  I  wrote  to  E.  W.  E.  to  ask  him  to  take  charge  of  such 
a  work.  If  he  fails,  what  say  you  to  that  ? 

*  In  a  diary  which  Mr.  Parker  kept  during  his  last  illness  in  Rome,  is  this  entry  : — 
"Received,  to-day,  the  Unitarian  Quarterly,  with  a  notice  of  my  Letter  (the  Letter 
from  Santa  Cruz).  What  a  change  in  the  tone  of  Unitarian  periodicals  in  a  few  years  !" 
And  he  recognized  the  more  liberal  character  of  the  Christian  Examiner  under  its  new 
management  in  1859-60,  and  was  accustomed  to  say  that  it  was  then  the  best  religious 
periodical  in  America.  He  sent  a  number  of  it,  containing  his  own  article  upon  Massa 
chusetts,  to  Moleschott,  the  distinguished  chemist  of  Zurich,  with  a  note,  in  which  he 
says  : — 

"There  is  an  admirable  article  on  Asiatic  Civilization  in  the  Christian  Examiner  for 
July,  1859,  written  by  that  very  able  and  enlightened  man  who  wrote  those  on  India  and 
China  in  1857-8." 


268  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 


TO   THE   SAME. 

DEAR  SIR, — It  has  been  decided  in  the  council  of  the  gods  that  you 
must  undertake  the  business  of  conducting  a  new  review.  Kemember, 
now,  that  you  are  a  mortal,  while  the  gods  live  on  Olympus,  and  rule 
the  world  after  the  divine  sentence  of  the  Fates.  Therefore,  O  mortal, 
there  is  nothing  for  you  to  do  but  to  set  about  the  appointed  work. 

I  saw  Emerson  yesterday;  he  came  to  my  house,  and  we  talked  the 
matter  over ;  thought  as  I  did  about  it,  but  "  more  so ; "  offered  to  do 
his  possible  in  the  way  of  writing,  &c.,  but  thought  that  you  were  the 
man  for  editor.  He  thought  we  had  better  talk  the  matter  over  at  the 
Consessus  Divorum  presently  to  be  held  at  Concord,  where  we  could 
mature  the  matter. 

This  review  was  mainly  fed  by  the  voluntary  contributions  of 
a  few  writers  in  the  neighbourhood  who  were  most  interested  in 
its  principles  ;  *  but  almost  all  the  labour,  and  a  large  share  of 
the  writing,  fell  to  Mr.  Parker,  who  was  ever  ready  where  he 
was  most  wanted,  and  supplied  all  deficiencies.     Some  of  his 
finest  compositions   appeared  in  its   pages ;  the  biographies  of 
J.    Q.  Adams  and  of  Dr.  Channing,  his  elaborate  criticisms  of 
Mr.    Emerson    and    of  Mr.    Prescott,    and    an    article    on    the 
"  Political  Destination  of  America/'     For  three  years  he  kept  it 
from  falling  to  the  ground.     But  there  did  not  exist  a  sufficient 
corps  of  trained  and  ready  writers,  who  had  no  interest  beyond 
that  of  independent  criticism,  nor  a  sufficient  public,  to  establish 
it  as   an   organ  of  the   Liberal  School.     Such   a  journal  must 
happen    some    day ;    it    cannot    be    deliberately    plotted.      Mr. 
Parker  went  to  work  in  his  systematic  way  and  drew  up,  care 
fully  classified,  a  list  of* the  subjects  which  cover  the  province 
of  such   a  journal.     Some   of  these  he  wrote  upon,  others  he 
offered    to    friends.     Then   he   prepared   a  list   of  contributors 
under  three   heads  :    "  A.  Certain  and  valuable ;  B.  Valuable, 
but  not  certain  ;  C.  Certain,  but  not  valuable/'     And  not  more 
than  one  or  two  names  there  recorded  contradict  his  estimate. 

His  enemies  used  to  say  that  he  had  a  wonfierful  instinct  for 
depreciation.  It  was  because  his  common-sense  seldom  found 
more  in  a  person  than  he  contained.  He  deemed  it  a  sacred 
power,  worth  developing  and  protecting  from  every  ignoble 
disturbance,  to  judge  men  with  absolute  sincerity.  He  could 
even  bid  some  of  his  controversial  prejudices  stand  aside,  if  any 

*  Extract  from  a  letter  to  Rev.  S.  J.  May,  Aug.  14,  1847.  "Dr.  Howe  keeps  still  his 
interest  in  the  work,  but  /  thought  his  name  had  better  not  appear  among  the  '  wise 
master-builders,'  lest  some  should  suspect  that  he  was  abandoning  his  duty  to  the  blind 
who  have  no  eyes,  to  attend  to  the  blind  who  have  eyes  but  see  not." 


THEODOKE   PARKER.  269 

matter  came  to  a  public  judgment.  This  is  different  from  the 
prevalent  American  habits  of  wholesale  eulogy  or  complete 
defamation ;  and  it  is  the  secret  of  the  hatred  which  he  incurred 
when,  to  lift  pure  models  and  to  correct  an  indiscriminate  taste, 
to  rescue  the  young  men  from  their  abject  homage  to  power  and 
talent,  he  drew  his  matchless  portraits  of  distinguished  names. 
There  are  traces  of  his  preparations  for  these  biographical  esti 
mates  extending  for  years,  careful  hoarding  of  facts,  traits, 
elusive  circumstances,  distinct  references  to  each  characteristic 
act  or  speech,  correspondence  with  distinguished  contemporaries 
who  could  either  confirm  or  contradict  a  rumor,  a  most  pains 
taking  testing  and  collecting,  ruled  by  a  sad  prescience  that  some 
day  would  bring  to  him  the  disagreeable  duty  of  clothing  these 
pure  facts  in  speech.  He  was  a  self-elected  arbiter  by  character 
and  genius  ;  courage,  jealous  conscience,  intuitive  observation, 
health,  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart,  were  the  judicial  robes  in 
which  he  sat.  These  are  certainly  essential,  though  they  cannot* 
always  be  infallible,  qualities.  They  justify  one  who  is  ordained 
to  lead  and  purify  the  people  when  he  undertakes  to  exhibit  its 
great  men. 

He  took  a  pleasure  in  calculating  the  forces  which  result  in 
the  direction  taken  by  a  public  man,  the  original  character,  the 
nature  of  his  education,  the  associates  of  his  profession,  the 
passions  within  and  the  passions  without,  the  worthy  acts  as 
well  as  the  doubtful  ones,  the  first  great  mistake  or  the  first 
decided  sacrifice.  Many  notes  of  this  description  were  slowly 
gathering,  under  the  heads  of  various  distinguished  names,  from 
his  earliest  preaching  days ;  they  were  continuing  when  that 
and  every  labour  besides  was  interrupted  by  the  voice  which  bade 
a  tablet  be  prepared  for  him. 

TO   A   FKIEND   IN   GERMANY. 

Boston,  June  5,  1847. 

MY  DEAB  FBIEND, — Your  kind  and  welcome  letter  of  April  10th 
came  to  me  two  days  ago,  and  I  write  with  a  very  joyful  heart  to  thank 
you  for  the  kindly  estimate  which  you  have  formed  of  my  labours,  and 
the  hearty  words  you  address  to  me.  It  gives  me  great  joy  to  find  a 
man  in  Germany  who  welcomes  my  books.  I  feel  so  much  indebted  to 
your  country  for  the  efforts  so  often  made  for  the  freedom  of  mankind, 
that  I  rejoice  at  the  thought  of  paying  back  to  any  one  a  small  part  of 
the  debt  which  I  owe  to  the  great  souls  which  have  risen  up  in  Ger- 
many.  German  literature  is  well  known  in  this  country,  and  is  sowing 
the  land  with  fruitful  seed.  "When  my  book  was  first  published  in 


270  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

1842, 1  sent  a  copy  to  the  Wissenschaftliche  Kritik,  but  I  never  heard 
of  its  reception.  A  year  ago  I  sent  a  copy  to  Wislicenus,  and  a  letter 
therewith,  but  never  heard  from  him  afterwards,  and  do  not  know  that 
he  has  ever  received  book  or  letter.  I  know  your  colleague  very  well 
bv  his  writings,  and  therefore  can  appreciate  your  position  beside 
him. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  warms  my  heart  to  find  such  a  friend  at  such 
a  distance.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to  show  my  sense  of  your 
great  kindness  towards  me,  but  I  must  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  am 
very  grateful  for  your  kind  opinion  of  my  book,  and  for  your  desire  to 
translate  it.  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  introduce  my  work  to 
the  German  nation  in  the  German  tongue ;  but  though  I  read  German 
easily  enough,  it  is  quite  difficult  to  write,  for  I  think  in  English.  I 
will  send  you  from  London  a  copy  of  the  third  edition  of  my  work, 
which  contains  some  additional  notes  not  found  in  the  edition  of  last 
year.  If  it  arrives  in  season,  you  can  make  use  'of  it ;  but  if  not,  why 
it  is  of  no  great  importance.  It  has  slowly  found  its  way  into  notice 
here,  but  all  the  periodicals,  especially  the  Unitarian,  raised  the 
Zeter-geschrei  (cry  of  heretic),  which  is  not  entirely  ended.  I  am  called 
infidel,  atheist,  and  other  pleasant  names  of  that  sort.  But  if  they 
call  the  master  of  the  house  Beelzebub,  it  matters  little  if  they  treat 
the  household  no  better. 

I  had  formerly  a  small  parish  in  Roxbury,  but  abandoned  that  a 
couple  of  years  ago  and  came  to  Boston,  where  I  have  a  large  audience 
of  intelligent  and  noble  men  and  women.  I  send  you  a  little  tract 
published  by  the  Unitarians  themselves,  which  gives  some  account  of 
them.  "What  I  must  add  is  not  much  in  their  favour.  They  started 
originally  with  a  protest  against  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  They 
denied  the  divinity  of  Christ,  but  they  did  not  declare  the  humanity 
of  Christ.  So  they  only  affirmed  a  negative ;  their  history  was  but 
the  development  of  a  negation,  and  little  more ;  the  protest  began 
amongst  a  class  of  cultivated  men  in  the  most  cultivated  part  of 
America ;  with  men  who  had  not  the  religious  element  developed  in 
proportion  to  the  intellectual  or  the  aesthetic  element.  Therefore,  they 
had  not  the  element  of  piety  in  their  preaching  to  the  same  extent  as 
their  opponents.  Unitarianism  always  had  a  worldly  character  ;  gra 
dually  the  opposition  of  the  Trinitarians  grew  less  and  less,  though  the 
name  of  Christian  is  still  wickedly  denied  to  the  Unitarians  by  their 
opponents.  The  Unitarians  formed  themselves  into  a  sect,  with  the 
regular  machinery  of  a  theological  party,  f.  e.,  officers  and  missionaries, 
money  and  tracts.  Then  it  was  necessary  for  them  to  publish  their 
symbolical  books.  But  they  have  not  ideas  enough  to  form  a  theo 
logical  party ;  the  development  of  their  negations  is  all  that  is  left  for 
them  distinctively  as  a  party.  If  they  would  affirm  the  humanity  of 
Christ,  they  might  become  a  great  sect ;  but  they  do  not  see  far  enough 
for  that.  They  declare  the  paternal  character  of  God,  but  yet  do  not 
(as  the  Uniyersalists)  declare  the  eternal  salvation  of  all  men.  They  are 
not  now  making  any  advances  towards  a  liberal  theology  ;  they  stand 
still,  and  become  more  and  more  narrow  and  bigoted  from  year  to 
year. 

Yet,  among  them  there  are  some  very  noble  men  who  are  entirely 
free,  and  desirous  of  further  progress.     From  them  as  individuals  much 


THEODORE   PARKER.  271 

is  to  be  hoped,  but  from  the  sect,  as  a  sect,  nothing  must  be  looked  for. 
It  is  curious  to  see  the  distinguished  men  who  have  once  been  Unita 
rian  preachers,  but  who  now  preach  no  longer.  Andrews  Norton,  the 
best  scholar  of  the  party,  who,  however,  devotes  himself  exclusively  to 
theological  pursuits,  is  narrow,  bigoted,  and  sectarian,  but  an  able  man. 
His  chief  work  is  "  A  Defence  of  the  Genuineness  of  the  Gospels," 
4  vols.  8vo.  Jared  Sparks,  eminent  as  an  historian  and  editor  of  Ame 
rican  State  Papers ;  Edward  Everett,  formerly  Governor  of  Massa 
chusetts,  and  American  Ambassador  to  England,  now  President  of 
Harvard  University ;  George  Bancroft,  now  Ambassador  to  England, 
the  historian  of  the  United  States,  a  man  of  great  ability  and  genius 
as  an  historical  writer ;  R.  W.  Emerson,  the  most  original  author  we 
have  produced  in  America,  a  man  of  wonderful  gifts,  and  the  author  of 
some  volumes  of  Essays,  which  I  wish  might  be  translated  into  Ger 
man  ;  John  G.  Palfrey,  now  a  member  of  Congress,  and  Secretary  of 
the  State  of  Massachusetts ;  George  JRipley,  a  sound  and  philosophical 
man,  who  is  devoting  himself  to  the  doctrines  of  Fourier.  All  these 
men  have  left  the  pulpits  of  the  Unitarians.  The  most  prominent 
scholars  in  the  denomination  are  Dr.  James  Walker,  Professor  of  In 
tellectual  Philosophy  at  Harvard  University ;  Dr.  Convers  Francis, 
Professor  of  Theology  at  the  Unitarian  Theological  Seminary ;  Dr. 
George  E.  Noyes,  also  Professor  of  Theology  at  the  same  place ;  Dr. 
Lamson  ;  Dr.  Gannett;  Dr.  Dewey,  a  showy  but  superficial  writer;  Dr. 
Putnam,  an  eloquent  preacher,  but  nothing  more.  There  is  little 
scholarship  and  less  philosophical  thinking  among  the  Unitarians. 
Some  of  their  members  engage  in  the  great  moral  movements  of  the 
day,  such  as  the  Temperance  Reform,  and  the  Anti-Slavery  movement. 
But  the  sect  as  such  is  opposed  to  all  reforms.  However,  it  has  already 
done  a  great  work  in  liberalizing  the  minds  of  men  ;  the  misfortune  is 
that  it  is  not  disposed  to  go  on  further.  However,  "  non  omnia  pos- 
sumus  omnes, "  and  others  are  rising  up  with  nobler  ideas  than  the 
Unitarians,  who  go  more  profoundly  to  work,  and  preach  absolute  reli 
gion,  not  controlled  by  the  traditional  authority  of  men,  but  resting  in 
the  instincts  of  man,  and  the  primeval  revelation  which  God  makes  to 
mankind.  The  triumph  of  this  liberal  movement,  I  think,i  s  certain ; 
for  every  year  the  people  become  more  and  more  emancipated  from 
authority,  and  disposed  to  think  freely,  and  to  allow  all  others  to  do 
the  same.  Some  of  the  most  liberal  theologians  in  the  country  are  not 
in  the  Unitarian  ranks,  but  are  men  of  enlarged  minds  and  generous 
culture.  I  think  the  destiny  of  the  sect  is  to  liberalize  the  mind  of 
the  nation  in  some  measure,  and  then  gradually  to  decay  and  perish. 
There  is  now  a  powerful  movement  going  on  in  favour  of  the  most 
entire  freedom  of  thought.  This  will  sweep  away  all  the  absurdities  of 
tradition.  Some  valuable  things  of  tradition  will  likewise  be  dropped, 
and  then  we  must  wait  till  some  one  goes  back  and  gathers  them  up. 
Hitherto  our  political  and  industrial  progress  has  been  greater  than  our 
advance  in  literature  and  philosophy.  That  was  unavoidable.  But  now 
intellectual  things  are  getting  attended  to. 

I  hail  with  enthusiasm  every  great  movement  in  Germany,  and  feel 
that  the  English,  the  French,  the  Germans,  and  the  Americans  are 
working  together  for  the  common  good  of  the  human  race.  It  will  be 
as  in  the  old  story  of  the  building  of  Solomon's  Temple ;  one  man  hewed 


272  LIFE  AND  CORRESPONDENCE  OF 

a  stone  at  Carmel,  one  a  cedar  at  Lebanon,  each  working  after  the  pat 
tern  which  the  great  architect  had  put  before  him,  not  one  of  them 
having  an  idea  of  the  work  he  was  building  up.  At  last,  on  men's 
shoulders,  and  upon  the  backs  of  beasts,  marbles  and  cedars  were 
brought  together,  and,  'midst  a  noise  of  harmony,  the  well-hewn  mate 
rial  grew  into  a  temple,  where  the  people  could  worship,  and  find  that 
God  dwelt. 

I  hope,  as  opportunity  allows,  you  will  oblige  me  with  a  letter,  which 
I  shall  hold  very  dear.  I  think  I  recognize  your  hand  in  some  articles 
in  the  Halle  Allgemeine  Zeitung.  Is  it  not  so  ?  Believe  me,  with  the 
heartiest  wishes  for  your  welfare  and  usefulness. 

Most  truly,  your  friend, 

THEODORE  PAEKEE. 

P.S. — Tour  Oster  Predigt  gave  me  great  pleasure.  I  recognize  there  a 
noble  soul,  whose  words  cannot  fall  in  vain  upon  the  ears  of  men.  I 
send  you  also  Dr.  Baird's  book  on  the  various  denominations  of  America. 
It  is  an  accurate  book,  and  will  help  your  friend,  Dr.  Pork,  also  in  his 
work. 

The  next  letter  shows  the  date  of  his  removal  to  Boston  for 
permanent  residence.  He  was  obliged  very  unwillingly  to  take 
this  step,  which  involved  a  separation  from  the  country  scenes 
that  were  so  dear  to  him,  in  consequence  of  the  distance  of 
Spring  Street  from  his  new  parish,  and  from  the  various  new 
duties  which  beset  him  in  Boston. 

TO   MRS.    DALL. 

Boston,  17  Jan.,  1847. 

MY  DEAE  CAEOLTNT:, — Here  I  am  in  Boston  ;  it  is  Sunday  night,  the 
first  Sunday  night  I  have  passed  in  Boston  these  ten  years.  But 
for  the  trouble  of  removing  the  household  and  my  books,  I  should  have 
answered  your  letter  before  now. 

What  are  you  driving  at  ?  What  have  I  done  ?  How  is  the  writer 
in  the  Examiner  generous  ?  How  is  truth  all  at  once  a  lie  because  it 
gets  into  my  mouth  ?  You  talk  riddles.  I  know  not  what  they  mean, 
unless  it  be  that  you  think  I  say  hard  things  out  of  spite.  If  you  will 
think  that,  why,  you  must,  and  I  can't  help  it ;  only  I  protest  and  say, 
such  is  not  the  fact.  Why  should  I  forbear  to  tell  the  truth  when  it 
presses  on  me  to  be  told  ?  I  must  speak.  Do  you  think  I  feel  spite 
against  the  poor  Boston  Association  ?  Not  the  faintest,  nor  never  did  I. 
Nay,  nor  need  I  ever.  If  they,  aided  by  New  England  rum,  drove  John 
Pierpont  out  of  Boston,  and  thereby  disturbed  the  Temperance  move 
ment,  why  should  not  I  tell  the  truth,  painful  though  it  be  to  me  ?  I 
think  it  is  quite  Christlike  to  do  so.  I  know  men  need  to  be  taught 
reverence,  not  fear  of  men,  but  reverence  for  right,  truth,  justice,  reve 
rence  for  the  laws  of  God,  and  for  Grod  who  made  these  laws.  If  I  lose 
friends,  I  can't  help  it— I  must  be  true  to  my  truth,  not  to  theirs.  I 
cannot  help  it,  if  I  lose  all  my  friends.  Perhaps  I  am  to  have  that 
trial — perhaps  to  sink  under  it  j  who  knows  ? 


THEODORE   PARKEB.  273 

I  will  send  you  my  "  Sermon  of  Merchants,"  soon  as  I  get  a  little 
"  fixed  up."  Perhaps  that  will  grieve  you  yet  more.  If  so,  tell  me.  I 
prize  your  friendship  all  the  more  for  its  sincere  statement  of  dissent. 
I  like  not  to  meet  a  mock  concession,  but  a  wall  which  sends  back  my 
words  with  vigorous  rebound.  Tell  me  always  my  faults ;  I  will  thank 
you  for  it.  Still,  it  seems  queer  to  me  that  nobody  finds  fault  when  I 
speak  of  the  fraud  of  politicians.  Nobody  finds  fault  when  bigots  revile 
even  the  sectarians.  But  when  I  say  a  word,  never  so  true  and  noto 
riously  true,  about  the  clergy,  straightway  a  cry  is  raised !  Even  you 
say  I  use  my  opponents'  weapons.  Not  so,  kind  Caroline ;  I  use  but 
my  own  lawful  weapons — Christian  weapons. 

Believe  me,  faithfully,  your  friend  and  brother, 

THEODORE. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  28th  Jan.,  1847. 

MY  DEAR  CAROLINE, — Tour  letter  does  not  make  the  matter  any 
clearer  than  before.  Either  what  I  say  is  true  or  not  true ;  either  I  say  it 
in  a  good  spirit,  or  not  in  a  good  spirit.  I  affirm  it  is  true  what  I  say,  I 
affirm  that  I  say  it  in  a  good  spirit ;  of  the  last  I  am  sure.  I  know  I 
speak  only  in  a  good  spirit,  in  a  spirit  wholly  good.  The  other  I 
believe  ;  I  am  confident  that  what  I  say  is  true.  As  to  taking  pleasure  in 
saying  what  you  call  sarcastic  things,  I  never  felt  the  least  pleasure — no 
thing  but  pain :  if  Horace  or  Juvenal  did,  it  was  their  affair,  not  mine. 
You  seem  to  think  when  I  speak  of  the  clergy,  I  mean  the  Boston 
Association.  Far  enough  from  it ;  when  I  mean  the  Boston  Associa 
tion,  I  shall  say  so.  Many  things  I  say  of  the  clergy,  which  belong  no 
more  to  the  Boston  Association  than  to  the  London  Association,  but  to 
the  clergy. 

I  should  like  to  know  when  I  ever  came  out  with  a  flat  untruth  in 

regard  to  men  like  and  others.  I  never  thought  of in 

a  sermon.  As  to  the  "good  of  the  clergy"  I  have  spoken  time  and 
again,  till  I  have  been  told  all  round  that  I  exaggerated  the  matter,  and 
subsequent  events  have  taught  me  to  fear  it  was  true.  If  I  had  been 
writing  to  a  Sophist,  I  should  not  have  made  the  allusion  you  speak  of  as 
to  the  abuse  which  bigots  pour  upon  sectarians.  I  saw  the  construction 
which  might  be  put  upon  it.  I  did  not  think  you  would  put  that  con 
struction  on  my  words.  As  to  sarcasm,  I  know  not  what  you  mean  by 
it.  I  know  of  no  sarcasm  in  the  sermons  under  consideration.  Censure 
is  not  sarcasm.  I  call  sarcasm  malicious  irony — a  stripping-off  the  flesh 
in  wantonness.  I  plead  "  not  guilty"  to  the  charge.  I  seldom  use  irony 
at  all ;  sometimes  I  have  done  it. 

I  have  often  cautioned  my  friends  against  defending  me.  The  bitter 
ness  of  my  own  sufferings  has  been  to  see  others  suffer  for  me.  I  am 
strong  and  old — older  than  ever  before,  at  least ;  I  am  broad-shouldered 
for  suffering,  and  have  borne  that  all  my  life ;  not  to  suffer  would  be  a 
new  thing.  But  to  have  others  suffer  for  me,  I  have  not  yet  got  wonted 
to.  I  have  considered  my  course  again  and  again  in  all  lights,  and  I  can't 
see  the  error  you  speak  of.  If  it  gave  me  pleasure  to  say  hard  things, 
I  would  shut  up  for  ever.  But  the  TRUTH,  which  costs  me  bitter  tears  to 

19 


274  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

say,  I  must  speak,  though  it  cost  others  tears  hotter  than  fire.  I  cannot 
forbear.  I  thank  you  for  your  kindly  rebukes,  not  less  because  I  follow 
not  your  counsel. 

I  hope  soon  to  see  you,  and  am  truly,  your  brother, 

THEODOBE. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  June  2,  1847. 

MY  DEAB  GASOLINE, — I  like  very  much  the  little  book  of  Munch. 
It  is  clear,  manly,  and  popular.  The  author  makes  no  concealment.  He 
speaks  right  out.  He  seems  to  be  a  sincere  and  pious  man.  I  do  not 
like  his  views  on  war,  and  I  think  he  is  mistaken  sometimes  in  his 
exegesis  of  Scripture ;  but  still  I  hope  the  little  book  will  do  much 
good.  I  suppose  he  likes  the  name  of  Rationalist.  I  wonder  it  should 

be  a  reproach  in  New  England  ;  but  so  it  is,  and  poor  Mr. really 

seemed  afraid  the  Unitarians  might  be  suspected  of  the  thing,  though 
I  think  there  is  not  the  least  danger  of  that.  By  the  way,  do  you  see 
how  sectarian  the  denomination  is  becoming  ?  I  find  no  such  secta 
rianism  among  the  orthodox  on  Anniversary  Week,  as  among  the  Uni 
tarians.  Our  doctrines  are  so  much  better  than  the  bulk  of  theirs, 
that  our  sectarianism  seems  a  good  deal  worse. 

The  attempt  to  put  down  YOUR-ZSTM  by  MY-WW  is  always  bad,  but 
in  a  Unitarian  it  is  ridiculous.  The  Unitarians  have  not  a  sufficient 
dogmatic  basis  for  a  sect,  and  they  do  not  develope  their  humanities 
enough  to  make  their  way  as  a  body  of  working  men ;  so  I  do  not 
know  what  will  become  of  them. 

I  hope  they  will  protect  with  their  ashes  the  ember  truths  of  time, 
which  the  world  needs  alike  for  light  and  heat.     We  must  have  a  good 
deal  of  charity  for  all  men,  both  conservative  and  radical. 
"  Be  to  their  faults  a  little  blind, 
Be  to  their  virtues  very  kind  " 

is  no  bad  rule  for  the  active  or  passive  part  of  the  world. 

Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

Christmas,  1847. — To-day  I  received  from  Archdeacon  Wolff1,  at  Kiel, 
the  translation  of  my  Discourses,  &c.  The  work  awakened  such  heart- 
beatings  as  I  have  not  often  had  for  a  cause  seemingly  so  slight.  I 
read  the  lines  of  his  preface,  in  which  he  speaks  so  tenderly  of  me,  not 
without  many  tears.  Is  it  possible  that  I  am  to  be  henceforth  a  power 
in  the  world  to  move  men,  a  name  which  shall  kindle  men  to  goodness 
and  piety,  a  name  of  power  ?  I  think  little  enough  of  fame.  But  to 
be  a  man  who  can  lead  mankind  a  little  onward,  that  thought  would 
charm  me. 

Well,  at  reading  that,  remembering,  too,  how  I  have  been  treated 
here,  I  must  confess  I  wept ;  and  since  have  felt  the  better  for  my 
tears.  God  grant  I  may  be  more  and  better  as  the  years  go  by ! 

February,  1848. — On  Tuesday  I  attended  a  funeral  of  a  child,  five  or 
six  years  old ;  but  the  parents  do  not  believe  in  the  continuous  and 
conscious  life  of  the  soul.  It  was  terribly  sad.  The  friends  that  I 
talked  with  were  superficial  and  conceited.  I  have  seldom  attended  a 


THEODORE   PARKER.  275 

sadder  funeral.  They  wanted  no  form  of  prayer,  but  for  decency's  sake, 
wanted  a  minister  and  an  address.  I  suppose  they  sent  for  me  as  the 
minimum  of  a  minister.  I  tried  to  give  them  the  maximum  of  humanity 
while  their  hearts  were  pliant,  and  they  excited  by  grief.  The  man 
seemed  a  worthy  man,  humane,  but  with  an  unlucky  method  of  philo 
sophy.  I  see  not  how  any  one  can  live  without  a  continual  sense  of 
immortality.  I  am  sure  I  should  be  wretched  without  a  certainty 
of  that. 

In  February  he  went  to  New  Haven  and  spent  two  days, 
very  profitably,  in  the  company  of  the  distinguished  Professors 
there,  Taylor,  and  Salisbury  the  Orientalist,  Woolsey,  Gibbs, 
Thacher,  and  Goodrich. 

I  stayed  with  my  good  friend  Noah  Porter.  Him  and  his  wife  I 
long  ago  learned  to  like  and  since  to  love.  I  have  seldom  enjoyed  two 
days  so  much  as  these.  I  have  found  these  professors  kindly  and 
gentlemanly. 

He  contrasts  their  treatment  with  that  of  more  liberal  thinkers, 
and  proceeds : — 

They  all  seem  to  have  liberal  methods  and  lofty  aims.  If  they  have 
not  arrived  at  conclusions  so  liberal  as  the  Unitarians,  their  method  is 
decidedly  better.  Dr.  Taylor  loves  philosophy  and  looks  for  advance 
in  theology.  Yet  in  him  I  thought  I  saw  the  ill-effects  of  Calvinism. 
His  conception  of  God  was  a  poor  one. 

He  says  most  distinctly  that  in  any  contest  between  Eeason  and 
Scripture,  Eeason  must  be  followed :  "  What  in  the  name  of  Eeason 
must  be  followed  if  not  Eeason  itself?" 

TO   REV.    INCREASE   S.    SMITH. 

Feb.  4,  1848. 

The  Anti-Sabbath  Convention  is  not  to  be  an  Anti-Sunday  Conven 
tion  :  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  think  we  can  make  the  Sunday  ten  times 
more  valuable  than  it  is  now,  only  by  abating  the  nonsense  connected 
with  it. 

I  have  all  along  been  a  little  afraid  of  a  reaction  from  the  sour, 
stiff,  Jewish  way  of  keeping  the  Sunday,  into  a  low,  coarse,  material, 
voluptuous,  or  mere  money-making  abuse  of  it.  But  if  we  take  it  in 
time,  we  can  cast  out  the  Devil  without  calling  in  the  aid  of  Beelzebub. 
The  Past  is  always  pregnant  with  the  Euture.  The  problem  of  the 
Present  is  the  maieutic,  to  deliver  the  Past.  If  the  case  is  treated 
scientifically,  the  labour  is  easy,  the  throes  natural,  and  the  babe  is 
born.  The  dear  old  lady,  the  Past,  who  is  mother  of  us  all,  is  soon 
"as  well  as  could  be  expected,"  and  receives  the  congratulations  of 
her  friends,  and  is  told  how  well  the  little  sonny  looks— exactly  like 
his  "  ma."  So  she  cossets  him  up,  nurses  him,  and  gives  him  a  Christian 
name.  But  if  the  case  is  not  treated  scientifically,  the  labour  is  long 
and  difficult,  the  throes  unnatural,  and  the  sufferings  atrocious ;  the 
poor  old  matron  must  smart  under  the  forceps,  perhaps  submit  to  the 
Cassarean  operation,  perhaps  die ;  and  the  little  monster  who  thus 


276  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

comes  into  the  world  by  a  matricide,  is  himself  in  a  sad  condition,  and 
will  have  a  sad  remembrance  all  his  life  of  the  fact  that  he  killed  his 
mother. 

Now,  I  think  that  we  can  deliver  the  Jewish  Sabbath  of  a  fine  healthy 
Sunday,  who  will  remember  that  he  comes  of  a  Hebrew  stock  on  one 
side,  but  that  mankind  is  his  father,  and  while  he  labors  for  the  human 
race,  will  never  make  mouths  at  the  mother  who  bore  him.  But  if  the 
matter  be  delayed  a  few  years,  I  think  there  is  danger  for  the  health  of 
both  child  and  mother. 

I  hope  you  will  come  to  the  Convention,  and  will  speak,  too.  I 
mean  to  do  so,  but  as  I  am  not  a  bit  of  a  Reactionist,  and  share  none 
of  the  excesses  of  either  party,  I  suppose  I  shall  be  too  radical  for 
the  Conservatives,  and  too  conservative  for  the  Eadicals,  and  so  be 
between  two  fires,  cross-fires,  too. 

An  Anti-Sabbath  Convention  was  held  in  Boston  during  the 
last  week  of  March,  1848.  The  call  for  this  meeting,  written  by 
Mr.  Garrison,  proposed  the  creation  of  a  public  opinion  adverse 
to  the  penal  laws  requiring  the  religious  observance  of  the 
Sabbath.  This  Convention  sought  to  effect  their  repeal  by  the 
State  Legislature,  so  tbat  all  persons  might  observe  the  day  or 
not,  in  strict  accordance  with  their  conscience.  There  had  been 
no  particular  enforcement  of  the  Sunday  Law  to  stimulate  this 
meeting  ;  it  was  only  another  demonstration  of  the  criticizing 
and  protesting  spirit  which  ruled  at  that  period,  before  all 
reformatory  interests  became  swallowed  up_in  the  magnitude  of 
Anti-Slavery.  Prison  reform,  anti-capital  punishment,  peace, 
non-resistance,  temperance,  and  some  more  transitory  subjects, 
struggled  with  anti-slavery  to  possess  the  public  ear.  These 
various  meetings  for  reform  were  the  most  vigorous  and  attrac 
tive  of  all  the  May  Meetings  ;  they  had  the  best  speakers,  for 
they  were  countenanced  by  all  the  earnest  and  independent  men. 
There  was  a  passion  for  witnessing  the  powerful  agitation  of 
these  great  questions,  which  was  not  equalled  by  a  passionate 
practical  devotion  to  them.  The  causes  themselves  moved 
languidly,  but  so  long  as  the}''  were  eloquently  advocated  there 
was  no  lack  of  audience.  In  this  temper,  any  call,  which 
involved  a  point  that  was  debateable,  might  win  a  respectable 
hearing  upon  its  abstract  merits  alone. 

Mr.  Parker  signed  this  call,  in  company  with  all  the  promi 
nent  reformers  of  Boston  and  the  State,  and  there  was  a  two 
days'  discussion  of  the  origin,  authority,  and  use  of  Sunday. 
Mr.  Parker's  speech,  prefacing  some  resolutions,  was  filled  with 
information:  he  objected  to  penal  laws  to  enforce  the  formal 


THEODORE   PARKER.  277 

observance  of  Sunday,  but  contended  that  many  happy  effects 
flowed  from  the  custom  of  devoting  one  day  to  rest  and  to  pur 
poses  of  spiritual  culture.  His  resolutions  did  not  pass  :  they 
were  not  quite  radical  enough  for  the  temper  of  the  meeting. 
But  his  speech  is  remarkable  for  its  common-sense. 

Men  commonly  think  they  are  never  clear  of  one  wrong  till  they 
have  got  the  opposite  wrong.  So  the  Puritans,  disgusted  with  the 
frivolity  which  they  saw  in  the  Romish  Church — disappointed  at  find 
ing  in  the  Catholic  Sunday,  in  its  freedom  and  its  frolic,  so  little  for 
the  direct  nurture  of  religion — went  over  to  the  other  extreme.  That 
was  a  time  of  fanatical  reaction  against  old  abuses.  There  is  no  great 
danger  of  resisting  a  wrong  too  powerfully,  but  there  is  great  danger  of 
going  over  to  the  opposite  wrong,  and  contending  that  that  wrong  is 
the  right.  I  would  not  commit  the  same  fault  that  the  Puritans  did, 
and  go  to  the  opposite  extreme.  If  men  are  fanatical  in  their  notion 
of  keeping  the  Sunday,  I  would  not  be  a  fanatic  and  destroy  it ;  for,  if 
men  now  are  driven  by  the  spirit  of  reaction  against  the  Puritanic  idea 
of  the  Sunday,  and  go  to  the  opposite  extreme,  why,  all  the  work  must 
be  done  over  again  till  it  is  well  done. 

I  heard  a  man  say,  that  if  he  had  the  whole  of  Grod  Almighty's 
truth  shut  up  in  his  left  hand,  he  would  not  allow  a  man  to  unlock 
even  his  little  finger.  That  is  not  my  creed  at  all.  I  do  not  believe 
mankind  is  in  the  least  danger  of  being  ruined  by  an  excess  of  truth. 
I  have  that  confidence  in  truth,  that  I  fear  it  not  under  any  circum 
stances  ;  but  I  do  fear  error,  whether  coming  from  Churches,  States,  or 
majorities,  or  minorities,  in  the  world. 

When,  at  a  later  date,  the  community  was  vehemently  agi 
tated  by  the  penal  enactments  against  the  selling  of  liquor,  which 
passed  the  legislature  notwithstanding  a  vigorous  opposition,  he 
preached  a  sermon  upon  the  good  and  bad  elements  in  the  Maine  * 
Law.  That  law  prohibited  the  traffic  in  all  kinds  of  drinks  that 
intoxicate,  affixed  a  penalty  to  each  case  of  violation  of  the  law, 
confiscated  the  property  when  it  was  found  on  sale,  and  autho 
rized  the  destruction  of  the  liquor.  All  previous  laws  upon  this 
subject  of  the  sale  of  liquors  were  merely  regulative.  This  one 
was  intended  to  destroy  the  traffic  altogether,  though  it  could  not 
interfere  with  the  use  of  liquor  in  private  houses.  Under  its 
authority,  State  agents  were  appointed,  who  were  empowered  to 
keep  stores  for  the  sale  of  liquor  for  medicinal  and  mechanical 
purposes  to  all  responsible  persons,  that  is,  to  all  those  persons 
who  were  known  by  the  agent  not  to  be  habitual  drunkards. 
The  name  of  every  buyer,  and  the  kind  and  quantity  of  liquor 

*  So  called,  because  the  first  law  of  that  kind  was  passed,  and  partially  enforced  in 
the  State  of  Maine. 


278  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

he  called  for,  was  entered  in  a  book.  The  mechanic  arts  never 
required  so  much  spirit  for  employment  in  their  various  processes 
as  now,  and  the  calls  for  medicinal  purposes  showed  a  sudden 
and  alarming  deterioration  of  the  public  health. 

This  law  went  into  operation  in  the  State  of  Maine  in  the 
spring  of  1851,  and  was  enforced  with  great  vigour.  Steam 
boats  were  watched,  and  occasionally  overhauled  ;  railroad  sta 
tions  were  searched,  all  the  dram-shops  were  closed,  hotel  bar 
rooms  hid  their  diminished  splendour  in  back-rooms,  and  the 
whole  traffic  was  driven  out  of  sight,  not  without  occasional 
disturbances  of  the  peace.  Common  carriers  contested  the  right 
of  the  State  to  invade  their  parcels  and  vehicles,  and  the  con 
stitutionality  of  the  law  was  doubted  by  many  who  were  not  in 
terested  in  the  making  or  selling  of  intoxicating  drinks.  Practi 
cally,  little  was  gained,  because  the  liquor  degenerated  in  quality 
as  it  ran  out  of  sight,  and  rum-drinkers  were  poisoning  them 
selves  on  the  sly  more  rapidly  than  they  did  in  gilded  saloons. 
The  police  occasionally  laid  a  trap  to  procure  evidence  against 
notorious  dealers,  and  a  race  of  informers  began  to  spring  up. 
This  odious  feature,  inseparable  from  the  strict  enforcement  of  all 
sumptuary  laws,  increased  the  clamour  of  the  disaffected,  and 
provided  them  with  a  good  deal  of  magnanimous  declamation. 
Still,  there  can  hardly  be  a  doubt  that  a  State  possesses  the 
right  to  abate  all  nuisances,  and  seize  or  remove  whatever  is 
destructive  to  the  general  health.  Tainted  meat  and  young  veal 
are  seized  ;  gambling  and  counterfeiting  apparatus  are  looked  for 
by  the  police.  Bad  rum  and  whiskey  are  more  debasing  than 
counterfeiters'  tools.  And  if  the  State  must  support  the  hospi 
tals,  asylums,  prisons,  and  almshouses  which  are  so  liberally 
peopled  from  the  frequenters  of  the  drinking-shops,  it  might 
rationally  protect  itself  in  some  way  against  a  traffic  which 
directly  increased  its  burdens.  The  whole  difficulty  lay  in  the 
practical  enforcement  of  a  principle  that  seems  abstractly  just ; 
so  difficult,  indeed,  that  it  never  became  organized  by  permanent 
effective  operations.  Severity  soon  relaxed  ;  the  police  was,  in 
general,  as  unwilling  to  unearth  rum-sellers,  as  it  was  in  general 
willing  to  help  kidnappers,  and  the  law  fell  into  decay. 

Mr.  Parker  had  studied  well  the  statistics  of  intemperance, 
and  understood  and  powerfully  depicted  its  immoral  effects.  See 
his  "  Sermon  of  the  Perishing  Classes  in  Boston/'  and  "  A  Ser 
mon  of  the  Moral  Condition  of  Boston."  He  never  made  use 


THEODORE   PARKER.  279 

of  wine  or  ardent  spirits,  except  by  medical  advice,  after  his 
original  vigor  bad  become  seriously  impaired.  He  saw  that  the 
great  movement  for  total  abstinence  was  saving  many  souls  and 
bodies ;  but  he  also  saw  that  the  question  was  wider  even  than 
these  wide  and  striking  facts,  and  he  treated  it  in  his  own  way. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

The  law  seems  an  invasion  of  private  right.  It  is  an  invasion,  but 
for  the  sake  of  preserving  the  rights  of  all.  Wine  is  a  good  thing ;  so 
is  beer,  rum,  brandy,  and  the  like,  when  rightly  used.  I  think  the  tee 
totallers  are  right  in  their  practice  for  these  times,  but  wrong  in  their 
principles.  I  believe  it  will  be  found  on  examination  that,  other  things 
being  equal,  men  in  social  life  who  use  stimulants  moderately  live  longer 
and  have  a  sounder  old  age  than  teetotallers.  I  don't  know  this,  but 
believe  it.  I  fancy  that  wine  is  the  best  of  stimulants.  But  now  I 
think  that  nine-tenths  of  the  alcoholic  stimulant  that  is  used  is  abused ; 
the  evils  are  so  monstrous,  so  patent,  so  universal,  that  it  becomes  the 
duty  of  the  State  to  take  care  of  its  citizens — the  Whole  of  its  parts. 
If  my  house  gets  on  fire,  the  bells  are  rung,  the  neighbourhood  called 
together,  the  engine  brought  out,  and  water  put  on  it  till  my  garret  is  a 
swamp.  But  as  I  am  fully  insured  I  don't  care  for  the  fire,  and  I  con 
tend  that  my  rights  are  invaded  by  the  engine-men  and  their  water. 
They  say,  "  Sir,  you  would  burn  down  the  town  !" 

FROM   A   SERMON. 

They  burnt  up  a  man  the  other  day  at  the  distillery,  in  Merrimack 
Street.  You  read  the  story  in  the  daily  papers ;  and  remember  how 
the  bystanders  looked  on  with  horror  to  see  the  wounded  man  attempt 
ing  with  his  hands  to  fend  off  the  flames  from  his  naked  head !  Great 
Heaven !  It  was  not  the  first  man  that  distillery  has  burned  up ! 
No :  not  by  thousands.  Tou  see  men  about  your  streets  all  a-fire  ;  some 
half-burnt  down  ;  some  with  all  the  soul  burned  out,  only  the  cinders 
left  of  the  man — the  shell  and  wall,  and  that  tumbling  and  tottering, 
ready  to  fall.  Who  of  you  who  has  not  lost  a  relative,  at  least  a  friend, 
in  that  withering  flame  F 

During  the  winter  of  1847-8,  he  commenced  a  series  of 
Saturday  afternoon  conversations,  which  was  attended  chiefly  by 
the  ladies  of  his  parish,  for  theological  and  spiritual  discussion. 
He  also  organized  a  society,  with  the  object  of  giving  the  people 
to  whom  he  preached  an  opportunity  to  practise  philanthropy  in 
the  streets  and  lanes  of  Boston,  whence  many  a  friendless  and 
tempted  girl  was  rescued  by  their  efforts,  and  provided  with 
honest  work. 

The  Melodeon  was  left  in  August,  1851,  for  three  or  four 
months,  that  some  repairs  might  be  made  ;  and  the  Parish  Com 
mittee  applied  for  the  Masonic  Temple  to  hold  their  meetings  in 
for  a  few  Sundays  ;  but  this  was  refused,  "  on  the  ground  that 


280  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

it  would  injure  the  reputation  of  the  house/'  This  result  was 
not  unexpected  by  Mr.  Parker,  who  only  said,  "  All  things  have 
their  penalty.  The  jug  of  Boston  is  broken  in  more  than  one 
place." 

He  spent  the  time  of  this  enforced  vacation  in  thinking  out 
new  sermons : — 

The  germs,  or  thought-cells,  have  long  been  floating  in  my  mind.  I 
hope,  for  the  next  five  or  six  years,  to  have  less  to  do  with  social,  civil, 
and  political  duties,  and  attend  to  my  function  as  scholar,  philosopher, 
theologian,  and  writer.  There  is  much  that  I  want  to  do. 

He  occupied  his  leisure  Sundays  with  a  visitation  of  the 
churches  through  all  the  denominations  in  Boston.  This  he 
did  to  understand,  by  personal  observation,  what  the  various 
clergymen  were  thinking  about,  and  to  note  their  tendency.  He 
heard,  perhaps,  twenty  sermons  by  prominent  men  : — 

Heard  Starr  King  preach  on  the  late  Celebration  *  in  Boston.  It  was 
the  best  service,  on  the  whole,  that  I  have  heard  in  the  seventeen 
services  that  I  have  attended  lately  in  and  about  Boston. 

Many  Sundays  of  his  successive  summer  vacations  were  thus 
spent  in  hearing  the  different  styles  of  preaching  in  the  neigh 
bourhood.  His  criticisms  were  in  no  case  weakened  by  too 
great  partiality  for  the  doctrine  which  the  preachers  represented. 
Here  is  a  specimen  from  the  journal : — 

Last  day  of  my  vacation  (1856).  Heard  Rev.  Mr. ,  of , 

preach  at  the  Old  South,  touching  the  "brazen  serpent" —  a  silly, 

worthless  sermon,  which,  with  that  of  last  Sunday,  makes  me 

think  even  worse  of  the  ministry  than  before,  which  was  needless.  The 
sermon  had  nothing  of  piety  or  morality  ;  the  prayer  scarce  any  touch 
of  either.  What  an  admirable  opportunity  the  minister  has !  An 
audience  which  comes  of  its  own  accord  to  listen  to  the  best  words  oi 
a  free  man  on  the  greatest  of  themes !  What  use  the  minister  makes 
of  it !  I  sat  in  the  pew  of  a  man  who  is  engaged  in  the  Chinese 
(coolie)  slave  trade !  The  minister  of  the  Old  South  Church  is  one  of 
the  "  No  Higher  Law  "  men — an  advocate  of  slavery.  The  building  is 
historical ;  and  preached  to  me  of  the  times  that  tried  men's  souls. 

Aug.  23, 1852. — Two-and-forty  years  ago,  my  father,  a  hale  man,  in 
his  one-and-fiftieth  year,  was  looking  for  the  birth  of  another  child 
before  morning, — the  eleventh  child.  How  strange  it  is,  this  life  of 
ours,  this  birth  of  ours,  and  this  death — the  second  birth.  How  little 
does  the  mother  know  of  the  babe  she  bears  under  her  bosom— aye,  of 
the  babe  she  nurses  at  her  breast !  Poor  dear  father,  poor  dear  mother ! 
"Sou  little  know  how  many  a  man  would  curse  the  son  you  painfully 
brought  into  life,  and  painfully  and  religiously  trained  up.  Well,  I  will 

*  Visit  of  the  President  of  the  United  States,  and  visit  of  the  Canadians,  to  Boston, 
Sept.  17-19,  1851,  to  celebrate  the  Opening  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railroad  into  Canada. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  281 

bless  you — true  father  and  most  holy  mother  were  you  to  me :  the  earliest 
thing  you  taught  me  was  duty — duty  to  God,  duty  to  man ;  that  life 
was  not  a  pleasure,  not  a  pain,  but  a  duty.  Your  words  taught  me 
this,  and  your  industrious  lives.  What  would  I  give  that  I  could  have 
added  some  more  of  gladness  to  your  life  on  earth — earnest,  toilsome, 
not  without  sorrow  ! 

As  you  look  down  from  heaven,  if,  indeed,  you  can  see  your  youngest 
born,  there  will  be  much  to  chide.  I  hope  there  is  something  to  ap 
prove.  Dear,  merciful  Father — Father  God,  I  would  serve  Thee,  and 
bless  mankind ! 

Aug.  12,  1852. — One  of  the  greatest  advantages  of  a  clergyman's 
life  is  this : — He  has  all  his  time  devoted  to  the  development  and  use 
of  his  noblest  faculties.  Men  of  science  all  come  under  this  same 
obligation  to  a  great  degree ;  but  they  generally  are  devoted  to  mat 
ters  of  a  purely  intellectual  discipline,  not  moral,  not  affectional,  not 
religious.  Doctors  of  medicine  are  an  exception,  and  hence  their 
superior  affectional  character ;  but,  then,  the  sight  of  death  tends,  as 
Dr.  B —  -  says,  to  make  them  think  man  is  nothing  but  a  "  demni- 
tion  body,"  and  hence  they  are  prone  to  materialism  and  lack  eleva 
tion  of  intellect ;  but  they  have  great  tenderness  of  feeling. 

They  usually  associate  chiefly  with  well-cultivated  and  highly  in 
tellectual  men.  This  is  of  great  value  to  their  intellectual  develop 
ment,  but  unfortunate  for  their  totality  of  manhood.  There  would  be 
no  Kants,  Leibnitzes  (Lieb-nichts,  a  love-nothing,  the  Hamburghers 
called  him),  Voltaires,  and  Humes,  and  Hobbeses,  with  such  as  live  in 
daily  contact  with  the  mass  of  men,  women,  and  children.  The  good 
and  ill  of  these  men  is  apparent,  and  much  comes  of  their  position. 

A  clergyman  must  be  a  rare  man  to  be  intellectually  great,  or  accom 
plish  any  great  intellectual  work.  Schleiermacher,  Luther,  &c.,  had 
an  exceptional  position,  which  accounts  for  their  exceptional  character. 
But  clergymen  have  a  noble  chance  for  a  most  manly  development,  if 
they  will,  and  do  not  herd  too  much  with  one  another.  Even  cabbages 
and  lettuces  do  not  head  well  if  they  touch.  I  am  deeply  grateful  for 
the  opportunity  I  possess,  and  know  how  much  it  increases  my  debt 
to  mankind,  and  how  it  must  be  paid  back. 

Oct.  31. — Preached  sermon  on  Mr.  Webster — a  sad  and  dreadful 
day  to  me :  it  was  so  painful  to  criticize  him  as  I  needs  must.  The 
preaching  of  the  sermon  occupied  two  and  a  half  hours ;  it  would  have 
required  three-quarters  of  an  hour  more  to  preach  all  that  was  written. 
At  eleven  o'clock,  Wednesday,  not  a  line  of  it  was  written  ;  at  two 
P.M.  Saturday  not  a  line  unwritten. 

In  this  short  space  of  time,  deducting  some  interruptions 
which  he  mentions,  did  he  give  shape  and  informing  power  to 
the  materials  and  suggestions  which  he  had  been  gathering  con 
cerning  Daniel  Webster  for  many  years. 

Nov.  14,  1852. — Preached  the  last  sermon  in  the  Melodeon.  It  has 
been  a  good  place  to  us,  and  I  feel  sad  at  leaving  it,  though  all  the  ele 
ments  were  hostile.  1  shall  not  forget  the  dark  rainy  Sundays  when  I 
first  came,  nor  the  many  sad  and  joyous  emotions  I  have  felt  there. 
Still,  it  was  never  quite  so  dear  to  me  as  the  little  church  at  Roxbury — 
inv  earliest  one. 


APPLE-TREE    AND    BENCH. 


CHAPTER  XL 

.    Exeter  Place— The  Country— Friendship — Pleasant  Traits— Some  Letters. 

EXETER  Place,  into  which  the  family  moved,  is  terminated  by  a 
huge  trellis,  substantially  built  against  the  end  wall  of  a  house. 
This  is  covered  *by  creeping  plants,  which  take  their  rise  in  a 
diminutive  railed  space  in  the  shape  of  a  triangle,  with  a  water 
less  fountain  like  an  epergne  in  the  centre.  The  end  of  the  lane 
looks  like  a  theatre-flat  which  has  performed  the  garden-scene 
during  several  highly  melodramatic  seasons.  A  Flora  stands 
there,  as  if  for  a  label,  to  prevent  misconception  in  the  civic 
mind  and  to  enforce  rurality,  which  she  does  in  melancholy 
fashion.  It  was  a  poor  substitute  for  the  woods  and  fields  of 
West  Roxbury.  Mr.  Parker  languished  for  the  natural  scenes 
to  which  he  had  been  from  birth  accustomed  :  next  to  books, 
they  were  essential  to  his  comfort  and  happiness.  He  used  to 
anticipate  his  summer  vacations,  when  for  several  years  the 
family  would  return  to  the  house  at  Spring  Street,  with  childlike 
delight ;  every  spring  he  began  to  time  the  blossoming  of  the 
shrubs  and  trees,  and  to  tell  over  what  he  should  be  too  late  for 
and  what  he  should  find.  It  was  a  sore  disappointment  if  he 
did  not  get  out  of  town  in  season  for  the  apple-blossoms,  but  his 


THEODORE   PARKER.        ,  283 

favourite  walks  and  secluded  spots  for  prayer  and  meditation  re 
mained  to  welcome  the  worshipper,  and  after  he  ceased  to  spend 
the  summers  in  his  old  home,  his  occasional  visits  there  were  pil 
grimages  to  a  shrine. 

Went  over  to  West  Roxbury  to  see  the  old  familiar  places — the  dear 
old  places!  The  seat  under  the  willow  was  there  just  as  I  made  it; 
theRudbeckiavjSLS  in  blossom  just  as  I  planted  it— the  hibiscus  where  I 
set  it.  But  the  new  proprietor  has  torn  up  the  sumachs  that  I  used  to 
nourish  with  such  care.  I  got  some  apples  from  the  tree  that  I  grafted 
— it  was  full  of  porter-apples,  rather  small,  but  fair. 

Then  there  were  the  two  favourite  spots  in  the  woods — the  little  cosy 
place  under  the  cedars,  where  I  have  spent  so  many  delightful  hours  ; 
the  favourite  walk  in  the  woods,  with  the  houseleek,  the  golden  moss,  and 
the  peppermint  all  there ;  all  the  rest  had  died ;  the  rose-bush  was  gone, 
even  the  old  pine  was  dead.  I  planted  two  peach-stones  side  by  side, 
touching  one  another,  and  they,  too,  will  come  to  nothing. 

I  went  and  gathered  my  favourite  flowers  in  the  old  favourite 
locations,  the  Houstonia  recurvata,  &c.  The  trees  have  grown  abund 
antly,  all  else  looked  natural,  save  the  new  division  of  some  land;  but 
a  deal  of  sadness  comes  into  the  heart  on  visiting  alone  the  places 
which  are  endeared  by  association  with  others,  such  as  the  rocks  in 
the  woods. 

These  were  two  large  rocks  in  the  precincts  of  Newton,  upon 
land  of  the  Brackett  family.  By  dint  of  much  heaving  with  a 


THE    ROCKS   AT   NEWTON. 


crowbar,  and  by  propping,  Mr.  Parker  had  succeeded  in  convert 
ing  them  into  a  pair  of  rude  seats ;  above  them  the  summer 
trees  whispered  to  his  thoughts. 


284  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

The  dear  old  pines  looked  green  as  ever,  and  grew  finely,  heedless 
of  the  heads  they  shade;  the  tulip-trees  have  grown  very  big,  and 
their  leaves  tinkle  as  sweetly  as  ever.  The  dear  old  church  looked 
welcome  and  friendly.  How  I  have  loved  it,  and  still  love  it ! — but  I 
hope  I  shall  never  preach  there  again,  and  get  such  a  touch  of  the 
heart-break  as  the  last  time. 

i 

Here  is  a  spring  day  during  his  residence  in  the  old  parish  : — 

May  3. — To-day  has  been  one  of  those  beautiful  spring  days  when 
mere  existence  is  a  pleasure.  The  sun  has  been  lovely,  and  a  light 
wind  from  the  south-west  played  among  the  pines,  like  the  noise  of 
the  sea.  As  I  sat  beneath  some  cedar  trees,  the  birds  sang,  the  winds 
murmured,  the  bees  hummed,  and  to  show  that  the  scene  was  human, 
a  symbolical  snake,  more  than  six  feet  long,  glided  forth  in  the  sun 
close  to  me.  I  felt  my  skin  roughen  up  into  little  waves.  I  love  to 
lie  on  the  ground  in  such  days,  and  dream  under  the  clouds,  and  sleep. 
Beautiful  dreams,  native  to  the  scene,  start  up  in  my  slumbers,  and 
when  I  awake  are  gone  like  the  spring  itself.  It  is  a  churlishness 
towards  nature  to  sit  indoors  in  such  weather. 

Spring  in  Boston. — May  19. — It  has  been  one  of  the  beautiful  days 
we  sometimes  have  in  May :  it  is  summer  come  in  without  singing  at 
the  door.  The  thermometer  says  90°  in  the  shade,  yet  all  the  morning 
the  weather  was  perfect.  Oh,  how  bright  the  sky  was,  and  so  deep  the 
blue  !  Then  the  grass  on  the  common  was  so  green,  the  children  so 
happy,  and  the  dogs  so  delighted  with  their  swim  in  the  frog-pond.  It 
did  me  good  to  see  such  a  day  ;  I  feel  in  love  with  all  creatures,  and 
such  as  I  love  most  I  feel  quite  tender  to  —1  long  for  their  presence ; 
for  when  I  have  anything  so  good  as  existence  to-day  1  want  to  share 
it  with  one  I  love. 

What  a  place  the  city  is  for  outward  action  !  But  it  is  no  place  for 
thought,  least  of  all  for  poetic,  creative  thought.  This  summer  I  hope 
to  fill  up  my  little  cistern  by  intercourse  with  nature.  How  I  long  to 
sit  down  in  the  woods  on  my  favourite  rock,  to  gather  the  lady's 
slippers  and  polyyalla — to  get  a  forget-me-not,  and  to  swim.  Oh,  the 
apple-trees,  they  are  in  blossom  now !  How  grateful  I  feel  for  them  ! 
I  hardly  dare  think  how  happy  I  am  with  them.  But  there  is  one 
thing  which  affects  me  more,  a  blossoming  soul,  especially  a  young 
woman,  a  girl.  1  thank  God  that  one  dear  friend  has  children,  and  I 
can  play  with  the  little  rogues.  I  love  to  have  them  call  me  Mr. 
Parkie — a  tender  diminutive,  which  does  my  dry  heart  good. 

He  cannot  get  out  to  West  Roxbury  for  a  week. 

Again  have  I  been  cheated  out  of  the  apple-blossoms.  I  never  lost 
them  but  once  before,  and  that  was  last  year,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  lost  the 
whole  spring  in  consequence.  But  now  they  are  gone  again,  and  I 
have  but  had  a  glimpse  of  them,  so  the  sweetest  of  blossoms  /  have 
missed. 

His  knowledge  of  the  flowers  and  trees  was  extensive  :  he 
knew  where  t»  find  all  the  lowly  beauties  of  the  New  England 


THEODORE   PARKER.  285 

woods  and  meadows,  and  could  go  to  fetch  them  on  the  very  day 
of  their  blossoming.  "  Leave  some/'  he  would  say,  however  ; 
"  do  not  take  all."  In  travelling,  the  aspects  of  nature  chal 
lenged  observation  with  his  regards  for  men.  He  notices  the 
grasses,  and  the  weeds  flowering  by  the  hard  causeway,  the  lapis 
lazuli  of  the  lakes,  the  moraines,  the  ice-billows  of  the  Her  de 
Glace,  and  the  veined  appearance  of  the  ice  itself,  the  rhododen 
drons,  bluebells,  and  harebells  which  contest  a  patch  of  soil  with 
the  snow.  He  has  an  eye  for  the  Aiguilles,  huge  monoliths  of 
nature,  and  the  Alpine  church,  mimicing  them  far  below  with 
its  slender  spire.  He  makes  drawings  of  the  roofs,  cart-wheels, 
and  women's  caps  ;  but  his  notices  of  nature  never  expanded 
into  wilful  description ;  for  the  commonest  objects,  which  rhetoric 
makes  ridiculous,  gave  him  that  sort  of  pleasure  which  a  child  en 
joys  when  he  runs  to  fetch  the  thing  that  delights  him,  or  runs  to 
bring  somebody  else  to  look.  The  sublime  aspects  of  mountain 
scenery  escape,  in  his  hands,  with  a  few  abrupt  word-tracings, 
mere  mnemonics  for  renewed  enjoyment  after  his  return. 

But  he  also  went  after  things  which  escape  through  ordinary 
dredges. 

The  quiet  farmer  tills  his  field, 

Joying  in  grass  and  wheat ; 
Not  knowing  what  his  meadows  yield 

Before  my  wandering  feet. 

All  his  compositions  betray  this  deep  and  discriminating  sym 
pathy  with  nature.  They  frequently  breathe  the  freshness  of  the 
open  country,  where  shadows,  like  moods,  sweep  across  the  light 
and  are  chased  by  light  in  turn.  You  will  stumble  over  little 
reminiscences  of  woody  brooks,  over  which  he  used  to  hang  in 
the  June  weather,  letting  the  sinuous  ripple  fascinate  his  gaze. 
Only  a  boy  born  in  and  of  the  country  could  run  with  such 
clovery  feet  through  the  wastes  of  theology. 

My  father,  a  hale  man  of  threescore,  laid  in  the  ground  his  own  mother, 
fourscore  and  twelve  years  old.  She  went  thither  gladly,  with  no  anguish, 
no  fear,  with  little  pain — went  as  a  tall  pine-tree  in  the  woods  comes 
to  the  ground  at  the  touch  of  a  winter  wind,  its  branches  heavy  with 
snow,  its  trunk  feeble,  its  root  sapless,  worn  out,  and  old 

But  if  he  lost  a  child,  it  was  a  sad  day,  a  dark  year ;  for  the  child 
perished  immature.  Sadly  in  June  or  July  the  gardener  sees  his  unripe 
apples  scattered  on  the  ground,  disappointing  his  hopes  of  harvest.* 

*  Sermons  of  Theism  :  "Economy  of  Pain,"  p.  309.  And  see,  in  "Providence,"  bis 
minute  description  of  that  "great  woodland  caravansary,"  the  oak-tree,  p.  255. 


286  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Look  up  at  the  stars,  study  the  mathematics  of  the  heavens,  writ 
in  those  gorgeous  diagrams  of  fire,  where  all  is  law,  order,  harmony, 
beauty  without  end ;  look  down  on  the  ant-hill  in  the  fields  some 
morning  in  early  summer,  and  study  the  ethics  of  the  emmets,  all  law, 
order,  harmony,  beauty  without  end  ;  look  round  on  the  cattle,  on  the 
birds,  on  the  cold  fishes  in  the  stream,  the  reptiles,  insects,  and  see  the 
mathematics  of  their  structure  and  the  ethics  of  their  lives;  do  you 
find  any  sign  that  the  First  Person  of  the  Godhead  is  malignant  and 
capricious,  and  the  Fourth  Person  thereof  is  a  devil — that  hate  prepon 
derates  in  the  world  ?  * 

No  doubt  the  Bible  contained  the  imperfection  of  the  men  and  ages 
concerned  in  writing  it.  The  hay  tastes  of  the  meadow  where  it 
grew,  of  the  weather  when  it  was  made,  and  smells  of  the  barn  wherein 
it  has  been  kept ;  nay,  even  the  breath  of  the  oxen  housed  underneath 
comes  down  to  the  market  in  every  load. 

Hark !  the  Bible  rustles,  as  that  southern  wind,  heavy  with  slavery, 
turns  over  its  leaves  rich  in  benedictions ;  and  I  hear  the  old  breath 
come  up  again — "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself." 

How  much  a  great  man  of  the  highest  kind  can  do  for  us,  and  how 
easy !  It  is  not  harder  for  a  cloud  to  thunder  than  for  a  chestnut  in  a 
farmer's  fire  to  snap. 

Little  boys  in  the  country,  working  against  time,  with  stints  to  do, 
long  for  the  passing-by  of  some  tall  brother,  who,  in  a  few  minutes, 
shall  achieve  what  the  smaller  boy  took  hours  to  do.  And  we  are  all  of 
'  us  but  little  boys,  looking  for  some  great  brother  to  come  and  help  us 
end  our  tasks. 

This  at  my  side  is  the  willow  ;  it  is  the  symbol  of  weeping,  but  its 
leaves  are  deciduous ;  the  autumn  wind  will  strew  them  on  the  ground. 
And  beneath  here  is  a  perennial  plant ;  it  is  green  all  the  year  through. 
When  this  willow  branch  is  leafless,  the  other  is  green  with  hope,  and 
its  buds  are  in  its  bosom.  Its  buds  will  blossom.  So  it  is  with 
America. 

In  a  sermon  upon  speculative  atheism  is  this  mark  of  a  nice 
observation  : — 

Convince  me  that  there  is  no  God— then  I  should  be  sadder  than 
Egyptian  night.  My  life  would  be  only  the  shadow  of  a  dimple  on 
the  bottom  of  a  little  brook,  whirling  and  passing  away. 

In  his  journal  for  1857  occurs  the  following  : 

The  night  spreads  her  broad  soft  wings  over  me  and  all  nature,  and 
I  feel  inspiration  in  her  presence.  What  thoughts  of  other  times 
come  thronging  upon  me  when  I  have  lain,  such  nights  as  this,  with 
the  soft  south-western  wind  sheeting  gently  through  my  half-opened 

*  "The  Popular  Theology,"  p.  107. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  287 

window,  now  listening  to  the  hum  of  some  far-off  walker's  voice,  now 
letting  my  feelings  take  wing  to  the  loftiest,  till,  lest  I  forget  the 
body,  iny  charm  is  pleasantly  broken  by  the  sound  of  an  apple  dropping 
softly  to  the  ground. 

He  took  pleasure  in  animals  of  every  description,  and  was 
never  tired  of  watching  them.  Bears  were  his  especial  delight  : 
he  said  they  were  great  humorous  children,  with  a  wary  Scotch 
vein  in  them.  His  house  was  full  of  bears,  in  plaster  and  ivory, 
and  wood,  from  Berne,  and  in  seal-metal.  It  was  a  short  and 
economical  way  to  his  heart  to  fetch  him  home  an  odder  bear 
than  usual.  He  once  collected  materials  for  an  article  on  bears, 
and  at  that  time  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  every  brute  bear 
between  this  and  the  White  Mountains. 

A  French  caricature  from  the  Revolution  of  1  847— 48,  repre 
senting  the  different  characters  in  the  shape  of  bears,  was  given 
to  him  by  Wendell  Phillips,  and  straightway  raised  conspicuously 
above  his  bureau. 

TO   MISS   CATHERINE   JOHNSON. 

Anti-Slavery  Office,  New  York,  28  May,  1858.- 

MY  DEAR  COUSIN  KATHIE, — The  new  bear  came  the  other  day — the 
famous  new  bear.  I  assembled  all  the  other  bears  of  the  family, 
introduced  them  to  each  other,  and  left  them  in  their  mutual  admira 
tion  society.  You  don't  know  how  the  little  bears  rejoiced  to  welcome 
this  new  one  !  When  the  great  original  bear*  came  home,  and  went 
into  the  parlor,  and  saw  all  the  household  of  bears  assembled  together 
and  the  new  bear  among  them,  great  was  her  amazement  thereat. 

Many  thanks  for  this  bear,  which,  it  is  thought  surpasses  all  the  rest. 

For  the  bears,  faithfully, 

COUSIN  THEODORE. 

When  he  passed  through  Berne  upon  his  last  journey,  he  spent 
a  great  portion  of  the  time  in  leaning  over  the  pit  where  the 
symbolical  animals  are  kept,  nor  could  he  be  got  home  to  break 
fast  till  he  had  duly  fed  them,  and  exhausted  upon  them  his 
choicest  ursine  epithets. 

Here  is  an  allusion  to  another  present  :— 

But  the  bear, — the  bear.  Why,  it  is  a  most  admirable  specimen  of 
that  genus — he  stands  now,  hat  in  hand — that  old  slouch  hat,  such  as 
none  but  a  bear  ought  to  have  (I  left  mine  at  Desor's — I  suppose  he 
will  wear  it  when  he  goes  to  meeting),  and  is  looking  at  the  brown 
bear  which  my  wife  always  carries  as  one  of  the  Penates  of  the  family. 

*  "  Bearsie  "  was  a  pet  name  for  his  wife. 


288  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

Why,  it  is  a  perfect  beauty ;  I  shall  be  tempted  to  seal  all  my  letters, 
but  this  to  you  will  have  the  first  stamp,  to  consecrate  the  seal. 

Here  is  something  upon  hens  : 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

The  hen  has  four  notes.  1.  She  has  a  common  note,  and  in  it  she 
speaks  all  day  long  to  her  little  charge.  She  never  tires  ;  cluck,  cluck, 
by  sunshine  and  in  rain.  Is  her  brood  large,  she  does  not  despair. 
Is  it  small,  she  is  still  faithful  in  little  as  in  much.  So  Providence 
ever  watches  over  all  men,  great  and  little,  and  never  wearies. 

2.  She  has  also  a  special  call.     This  she  uses  when  she  discovers  any 
corn  of  wheat,  an  insect,  or  a  worm.     The  chicks  come  thronging  in 
to  share  the  bounty.     So  Providence  sends  us  unusual  favours. 

3.  She  has  a  note  of  alarm.     When  the  hawk  or  the  weasel  is  at 
hand  she  utters  a  piercing  scream ;  the  young  ones  betake  themselves 
to  the  nearest  shelter. 

4.  She  has  a  brooding  note.     At  night  and  at  noon,  and  often  in  the 
rain  or  the  fierce   heat,  she   calls   her  little  ones  under   her  broad 
motherly  wings.     With  delicate  beak  she  urges  them   beneath  their 
shelter,  and  tucks  them  in.     Then  with  a  low,  parental,  purring  note 
she  lulls  them  to  repose.     It  has  a  composing  sound.     At  first  they 
interrupt  its  tranquillizing  monotony  with  sharp  "zip,"  as  one  crowds 
upon  the  other,  but  soon  all  is  still  and  they  sleep. 

So  God  broods  over  all  His  creatures.  The  voice  of  nature  speaks 
softly  in  its  brooding  note. 

HABITS  OF  BIRDS. — Wild  geese  will  eat  frogs.  I  saw  a  couple  of  tame 
ones  attempt  to  catch  a  poor  inoffensive  frog  in  the  brook  to-day.  I 
heard  their  voracious  jaws  snap  together  as  they  struck  at  the  defence 
less  croaker,  but  he  skipped  away,  laughing  in  his  sleeve. 

Saw  two  little  birds  on  a  pear-tree  eating  the  little  insects  that  prey 
on  the  blossoms.  Thus  both  they  and  the  insects  aforesaid  aid  in 
consummating  the  mysterious  marriage  of  the  blossoms.  I  never 
knew  whose  matrimony  the  birds  celebrated  in  their  songs  before. 

He  was  never  able  to  maintain  any  respectable  sentiment  for 
cathedrals,  for  the  abject  rows  of  the  poor  and  ignorant  upon  the 
pavement  were  so  many  figures  of  the  total  waste  in  stone  of 
their  bread  and  education,  and  he  believed  that  the  only  effect  of 
magnitude  and  solemnity  was  to  keep  stupefied  their  poverty- 
stricken  natures. 

Here  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  : — • 

I  should  like  to  look  at  the  cathedrals  once  more.  What  grand 
things  they  are  to  look  at,  and  to  think  of!  But  they  always  struck  me 
as  great  tombs.  The  men  who  built  them  are  dead,  and  the  soul  which 
wrought  in  the  builders  now  works  at  quite  different  things ;  while  the 
mob  of  people,  and  the  mob  of  priests,  seem  quite  unworthy  to  live  in 
such  a  huge  shell,— a  caterpillar  in  the  magnificence  of  a  sea-conch. 
Pcesturn  is  not  deader  to  Europe,  and  further  behind  the  civilization 


THEODORE    PARKER.  289 

of  this  age,  than  the  medissval  cathedral  is  behind  the  life  of  the  more 
progressive  people  of  New  England. 

The  music  has  a  soul  in  it ;  but  that  now-a-days  is  often  operatic. 
Yet  I  love  the  simple  grandeur  of  some  of  the  great  pieces  I  used  to 
hear  in  the  Italian  Churches.  There  is  one — I  heard* it  many  times — 
which  seemed  to  represent  the  life  of  man :  the  top  of  it  light,  trifling, 
foamy,  frothy,  changeable  ;  but  underneath  it  all,  a  great  ground-swell 
of  music  went  on  as  regular  as  the  psalm  of  the  ocean.  It  always 
reminded  me  of  the  hymn — 

"  Our  lives  through  various  scenes  are  drawn, 

And  vex'd  with  trifling  cares  ; 
While  thine  Eternal  Thought  moves  on 
Its  undisturbed  affairs." 

But  his  sympathy  for  men  and  women  soared  far  above  his 
feeling  for  nature,  animate  and  inanimate,  and  for  all  the  expres 
siveness  of  art. 

This  is  the  last  day  of  my  vacation — for  though  my  preaching  is  put 
off  another  month,  my  study  begins  in  earnest  to-morrow.  I  miss 
much  that  belonged  to  me  at  West  Roxbury,  not  to  speak  of  the  Human 
Face.  I  miss  the  sweet  little  spots  which  were  to  me  my  oratoires  in 
the  fields.  There,  too,  I  know  every  spot  where  the  flowers  grow,  but 
here  none  at  all. 

This  Human  Face  belonged  to  a  very  dear  friend,  but  the  phrase 
becomes  impersonal  when  put  on  record,  expressive  of  that  broad 
world  of  kindred  people  whose  horizons  enclosed  for  him  the 
brightening  weather  of  friendship  and  spiritual  delights.  "  Day 
light  and  Champian"  could  not  show  him  God's  grace  so  clearly. 
It  seemed  to  him  wonderful  what  friends  could  do  for  a  troubled 
and  buffeted  spirit. 

How  soon  the  memory  is  clear  of  disagreeable  recollections,  of  pain, 
of  suffering,  of  ugly  things,  and  how  perpetually  do  beautiful  fancies 
and  dear  affections  dwell  with  us  !  It  is  only  by  effort  that  I  recall  the 
painful  things  of  my  life,  and  when  they  come  back,  it  is  "  trailing 
clouds  of  glory  "  that  they  come.  And  there  is  one  face  in  my  past 
lifa  which  comes  with  all  the  beauty  of  a  new  moon,  the  few  hours  of 
her  brief  sun  on  a  June  evening  after  a  shower, — as  the  moon  with  the 
evening  star  beside  her. 

1. 

Oh,  blessed  days  were  those, 

When  thou  and  I  together, 
Sought  through  the  fields  the  wild  red  rose, 

In  the  golden  summer  weather  ! 

The  lilies  bloom'd  at  morning's  glow 
On  the  breast  of  the  winding  river : 
I  brought  to  thee  their  purest  snow, 

Less  welcome  than  the  giver. 
20 


290  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

2. 
There's  beauty  in  the  morning  flowers, 

And  in  the  noon-day  sun ; 
Time  measures  out  these  golden  hours 
«  With  the  fairest  sands  that  run. 

I  know  not  what  it  signifies, 

But  a  single  look  from  thee 
Comes  fresher  than  the  morning  skies 

Or  noonday  light  to  me. 

Oh,  people  thou  my  thoughts  hy  day, 

Adorn  my  dreams  by  night ; 
So  cheer  my  sadden'd  heart  alway, 

By  faith  when  not  by  sight. 

His  susceptibility  in  the  society  of  women  to  that  influence  of 
mind  and  presence  which  they  have  in  the  society  of  men  whom 
they  attract,  was  a  very  decided  characteristic.  That  subjective 
quality  of  sex,  which  the  poet  calls  Das  ewige  tveibliche  (the 
everlasting  womanly),  and  which  sustains  the  everlasting  differ 
ence  between  woman  and  man,  that  draws  and  piques  them  both, 
drew  him  along,  a  most  willing  captive,  held  and  led  by  all  the 
pure  and  gentle  elements  of  his  own  nature. 

My  companions  of  choice,  and  not  necessity,  are  almost  all  women. 
I  wonder  at  this  ;  I  never  willed  it  so.  I  have  always  been  intimate 
with  eminent  women, — that  is,  for  nearly  twenty  years  ;  and  1  number 
but  few  eminent  men  among  my  acquaintance.  Yet  in  literature,  I  am 
no  great  admirer  of  the  efforts  of  women.  Mrs.  Hemans  and  Margaret 
Fuller  are  the  only  learned  women  that  adorn  my  book-shelves ;  among 
my  correspondents,  ladies  fill  a  large  place.  Is  it  their  affection  or 
the  beauty  of  their  mind  that  attracts  me  to  them  ?  The  beauty  of  the 
person  was  once  a  dear  attraction,  and  has  lost  none  of  its  charms  even 
now.  I  love  to  look  at  a  handsome  woman.  Her  beauty  has  a  subtle 
fascination  for  me  which  my  weak  intellect  does  not  quite  understand. 
I  love  the  subtlety  of  woman's  mind,  in  striking  contrast  to  my  own 
direct  and  blunt  modes  of  mental  operation.  Thus,  I  love  the  nimble 

adroitness  of  Mrs.  H and  Mrs.  A much  better  than  the 

Macedonian-phalanx  march  of  good  Miss .  I  like  not  this 

dazzling  subtlety  in  men. 

Strong  is  the  effect  of  this  diversity  of  sex ;  I  like  the  presence  of 
woman,  as  such.  I  love  to  feel  the  presence  of  incarnated  womanliness. 

The  other  day  I  met  a  young  woman  in  the  street,  and  our  eyes 
met.  I  felt  a  sensation  of  unspeakable  delight  which  lasted  all  the 
morning.  I  cannot  tell  why  it  was,  but  so  it  was.  It  was  involuntary 
delight. 

This  has  been  one  of  my  unfortunate  days.  I  went  out  to  Roxbury, 
but  saw  not -the  chief  object  of  my  visit.  She  had  gone  to  visit  a  sick 
friend.  It  makes  me  better  to  see  her;  it  is  like  visiting  a  shrine 
which  has  the  gift  of  miracles,  and  heals  men  of  sadness,  lowness  and 
despair.  So  I  visit  my  Madonna  Miraculosa  from  time  to  time,  and 


THEODORE    PATIKER.  291 

come  home  a  better  man,  I  hope,  certainly  with  each  faculty  bright- 
ened  and  enlarged.  I  barely  missed  her  on  the  return,  for  the  wagon 
was  in  sight  just  as  I  got  into  the  'bus  to  come  away.  But,  well,  I 
shall  take  as  penance  and  mortification  what  I  receive  with  sorrow ; 
and  if  angels'  visits  be  few  and  far  between,  will  make  much  of  the 
angel  that  I  missed. 

He  made  the  following  confession  to  George  Ripley  : — 

There  was  a  pond  a  mile  off  (in  Lexington),  whither  I  used  to  go  a- 
fishing,  but  only  caught  the  landscape.  I  never  fished  much,  but 
looked  down  into  the  water  and  saw  the  shadows  on  the  other  side 
creep  over  it,  and  listened  to  the  sounds  from  the  distant  farms.  When 
I  was  from  six  to  seven  years  old,  there  came  a  perfectly  beautiful 
young  girl  to  our  little  District  School ;  she  was  seven  to  eight.  She 
fascinated  my  eyes  from  my  book,  and  I  was  chid  for  not  getting  my 
lessons.  It  never  happened  before —never  after  the  little  witch  went 
away.  She  only  stayed  a  week,  and  I  cried  bitterly  when  she  went  off. 
She  was  so  handsome,  I  did  not  dare  speak  to  her,  but  loved  to  keep 
near  her,  as  a  butterfly  to  a  thistle- blossom.  Her  name  was  Narcissa. 
She  fell  over  into  the  flood  of  time,  and  vanished  before  I  was  seven 
years  old. 

TO   MISS   HUNT. 

24th  August,  1853. 

DEAR  SARAH, — It  is  very  kind  in  you  to  wish  me  all  the  sweet  and 
beautiful  things  which  came  in  your  note.  I  wish  I  was  worthy  of 
half  the  affection  you  feel  for  me,  and  have  so  often  shown. 

But  I  will  try  to  be  nobler,  and  deserve  it  better. 

I  believe  no  man  ever  was  more  blessed  with  the  affectionate  friend 
ship  of  men  and  women  than  I  am.  I  often  wonder  at  it.  For  to  my 
theological  and  political  foes,  I  appear  as  one  of  the  most  hard  and 
unfeeling  of  this  world's  wretches.  But  perhaps,  there  is  some  '•  silver 
lining  "  to  this  ragged  cloud,  and  the  dear  eyes  of  some  kind  women 
turn  to  it,  and  make  sunlight  there. 

T  thank  you  many  times  for  all  the  kindly  sympathy  you  have  shown 
me,  and  the  strength  you  have  given. 

So  every  blessing  on  you,  and  good  bye.  T.  P. 

You  forgot  to  send  the  customary  kisses,  but  I  will  call  to-morrow, 
and  take  them. 

Birth-days  and  anniversaries  seemed  as  impressive  to  him  as 
they  do  to  a  child.  Every  year  underscored  them  afresh  with 
tender  thoughts  and  holier  wishes  :  the  date  of  his  leaving  home, 
of  his  sister's  death,  of  his  ordination,  of  his  South  Boston  sermon, 
of  his  settlement  in  Boston — all  the  days  whose  date  hope  or  trial 
had  deepened,  moved  his  heart  with  grateful  awe  at  the  mystery 
of  life,  as  when  the  great  bodies  of  the  sky  roll,  faithful  to  a 
moment,  out  of  absence  into  our  expecting  gaze.  So  he  used  to 
ask  his  friends  to  tell  him  their  birth-days,  and  some  of  these  he 
had  set  apart  for  simple  observance  in  his  house.  In  the  same  feeling 
he  received  the  gifts  and  mementoes  of  his  parish  or  of  friends. 


292  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP      % 

Gifts  which  he  received  from  members  of  his  parish  always 
drew  from  him  some  half-surprised  recognition. 

Dec.  24,  1853. — Had  a  family  gathering  of  sixteen  persons— all  ages, 
from  eighty-five  to  four.  Isaac  and  I,  the  last  of  eleven  children. 

In  the  morning,  to  my  great  surprise,  came  a  piano.  Not  one  of  the 
company  could  play  on  it.  But  it  speaks  to  me  continually  of  the  old 
sad  times,  when  men  who  aspired  to  teach  mankind,  paid  for  it  with 
their  lives.  I  will  try  to  be  a  nobler  man,  to  deserve  all  the  kindness 
which  shows  itself  more  tenderly  than  in  gifts. 

What  a  comfort  it  is  to  have  about  you  the  mementoes  of  dear  ones 
when  they  are  absent !  I  am  surrounded  by  the  gifts  of  tender  friends. 
I  wipe  my  pen  on  the  gift  of  one  ;  the  pen  itself  a  remembrance  of 
another ;  a  third  gave  me  the  lamp  which  shines  on  my  writing  to 
night.  The  spectacles  beside  me  are  the  gift  of  a  fourth  person  ;  the 
little  delicate  glass-wiper  came  from  a  dear  old  lady ;  the  portfolio  is 
from  one  hand  now  still  in  the  grave ;  the  presse-papier  is  also  a  gift ; 
the  knife  in  my  pocket,  and  the  pencil,  the  basket  which  holds  my 
letters,  the  seal  I  stamp  them  with,  are  from  a  most  welcome  and  dear 
soul ;  even  the  chair  I  sit  in,  and  the  ornament  beside  me,  is  from  that 
fountain  of  friendship  ;  the  little  porcelain  vase  which  holds  remem 
brancers,  the  sweetest  and  daintiest  flowers  in  their  season,  is  from  the 
same  friendship;  and  tender  mementoes  of  affection,  there  are,  too 
dear  almost  to  name.  But  what  are  all  these  things  to  the  living 
person  ?  They  are  steps  in  the  ladder  of  love.  Affection  mounts  up, 
and  if  the  throne  be  vacant — what  emptiness ! 

I  found  the  wild  rose  in  blossom  to-day  for  the  first  time  this  season, 
and  the  white  azalea,  and  sent  them  off  to  a  friend  to  whom  I  love  to 
consecrate  the  first  flower  of  each  pretty  kind  that  I  gather,  and  have 
done  so  for  many  a  year. 

These  things  are  picked  up  on  the  field  that  shook  with  his 
polemic  tread,  across  which  liberating  truths  bore  their  sparkling 
scorn  against  oppression.  The  gentle  tokens  strew  it  far  and  wide. 
"  The  bravest  are  the  tenderest, 
The  loving  are  the  daring." 

Here  are  lines'  amid  notes  of  an  excursion  to  the  "White 
Mountains : — 

When  sunder'd  far  from  one  so  near 
My  fancy  fetches  thee ; 
And  to  my  soul's  society 
I  welcome  thee  most  dear. 

And  often  as  I  walk  along, 

The  sweetest  sense  of  thee, 

Comes  trickling  down  my  memory, 
And  I  run  o'er  with  song. 

More  keen  am  I  for  God  in  prayer, 

To  find  myself  with  thee ; 

For  in  that  high  society, 
Thy  spirit  seems  to  share. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  293 

No  friends  ever  received  such  a  generous  measure  of  apprecia 
tion  as  his  ;  yet  it  was  not,  as  might  be  suspected,  because  they 
were  not  his  enemies,  but  because  the  same  sincerity  which  loved 
them  knew  also  their  faults.  He  spoke  of  these  things  to  them, 
like  a  frank  child,  and  if  they  proffered  the  same  courtesy  in 
return,  in  a  clear  spirit,  free  from  reproach,  he  was  always 
gratefully  surprised. 

One  day,  in  quoting  the  following  lines,  he  adds  a  commentary 
which  expresses  his  method  of  dealing  with  his  friends  : — 

"  Man  muss  um  gut  zu  seyn, 
Um  jede  Pflicht  der  Menschheit  zu  erfiillen, 
Nur  eine  Kunst,  die  schone  Knnst  verstehen, 
In  jede  Menschenbrust  das  Gute  nur  zu  sehen."* 

Now,  this  is  partly  true ;  but  let  us  know  the  whole  that  is  in  man, 
and  then  honour  him  spite  of  his  faults.  No  doubt  it  is  a  hard  thing  to 
love  John  and  Peter  with  all  their  faults.  But  it  must  be  so. 

REQUISITES  OF  FRIENDSHIP. — I  am  not  exactly  perfect  myself,  but  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  perfect  friends — men  without  conceivable  fault 
or  blemish.  Yet,  as  such  are  not  given  on  earth,  perhaps  not  in 
heaven,  I  am  glad  to  take  men  as  I  find  them.  I  don't  find  it  necessary 
to  conceal  ray  friends'  imperfections;  I  like  them  in  spite  of  their  faults, 
not  because  they  are  faultless.  I  should  be  sorry  if  my  friends  found 
it  necessary  to  render  me  perfect  before  they  could  love  me.  I  am 
willing  to  acknowledge  their  errors,  and  still  to  love  what  remains 
unsullied. 

In  1859  he  writes  to  a  friend: — 

Nothing  surprises  me  so  much  as  to  find  how  many  persons  love  me, 
not  only  in  New  England,  but  in  Old  England,  and  also  in  Germany. 
Rejoice  with  me. 

Though  he  longed  to  be  on  good  terms  with  all  people,  and 
had  a  tender  vein  which  would  have  betrayed  a  smaller  person 
into  transient,  destructive  partialities,  yet  justice  meted  out  all 
his  dealings,  and  he  wanted  nothing  but  conscience  to  rule  be 
tween  him  and  his  friend. 

Oct.  12,  1839.  C 's  visit  was  an  April  shower  to  me.     It  has 

made  me  flowery  and  young  again.  I  cast  off  my  years  as  if  upon  a 
summer's  day  in  the  green  meadows  gathering  flowers.  He  has 

awakened  the  slumbering  love  of  song  in  me.     Oh,  I  love  C !  he 

is  so  good,  so  rich,  so  full  of  spontaneous  fellowship  with  all  that  is 
noble.  Yet  he  is  not  a  man  whom  the  world  will  use  well.  So  let  it 
be.  He  that  hath  the  joy  of  his  genius,  let  the  world  wag  as  it  will 
for  him. 

*  Would  you  be  good,  and  fill  each  human  duty  ? 
One  art's  enough  for  that — the  finest  art — 
See  but  the  good  in  every  human  heart. 


294  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

Miss  P came  to  spend  the  Sabbath  with  us.  Her  magnanimity 

almost  surpasses  conception,  or,  rather,  she  has  no  magnanimity ;  it  is 
all  great-heartedness,  and  she  never  dreams  that  she  exercises  the 
virtue  of  magnanimity. 

Her  kindness  is  inexpressible.  How  much  love  the  divine  woman 
has!  It  is  her  life.  How  disinterested,  too  !  Oh,  the  perfection  of 
woman's  heart— and  sometimes  the  depravity  of  woman's  heart! 

What  shall  I  say  of  —  ?  I  grieve  to  say  what  I  must  say.  I  did 
not  think  that  religion  had  softened  a  spirit  naturally  so  austere,  nor 
that  charity  had  tempered  a  character  so  selfish  and  tyrannical  by 
birth.  I  did  not  dream  those  silken  cords  had  joined  her  so  softly  to 
the  sky.  But  I  did  dream  that  considerations  of  prudence,  suggestions 
of  the  understanding,  not  a  little  experience  of  the  world,  and  a  very 
subtle  mind  with  considerable  insight  into  first  principles,  had  done 
the  work  as  well  as  such  agents  could  effect  it.  Now  I  see  my  mistake. 
Nor  that  alone,  but  my  old  rule,  to  which,  in  her  case,  I  was  making  a 
conjectural  exception — that  religion  alone  can  regenerate  a  spirit  at 
first  ill-born — holds  good.  After  wandering  some  thirty  years  in  the 
Saharas  and  Siberias,  the  Englands  and  Egypts  of  life,  finding  a 
sad  mingling  of  earth  and  heaven,  to  see  one  of  vast  gifts  of  intellect, 
great  and  diversified  culture  in  elegant  letters  and  the  arts,  of  deep 
experience  in  the  detail  of  life,  one  tried  by  suffering,  mind  and  body 
— to  see  such  a  one  giving  way  to  petty  jealousies,  contemptible  lust 
of  power,  and  falling  into  freaks  of  passion,  it  is  ludicrous  first,  and 
then  it  is  melancholy. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  forgive  anything.  Thank  God,  I  have  no  occasion ; 
but  it  is  for  me  to  pity  and  to  mourn.  It  is  for  me  to  show  others  the 
only  salvation  for  themselves. 

About  1840,  Miss  Burley  told  me  of  the  fine  genius  and  finer  moral 
endowments  of  Mr.  Cheney.  He  made  some  crayons  for  her  family 
then,  which  I  admired  much.  In  1841-2,  Mr.  G.  Russell  satin  another 
artist's  room,  and  heard  a  conversation  in  the  next  apartment  relative 
to  the  sermon  of  the  "  Transient  and  Permanent  in  Christianity.'-'  One 
was  attacking  it  and  its  author ;  Mr.  R.,  learned  that  the  defender  was 
Mr.  Cheney,  an  artist  with  fine  genius.  I  was  surprised  to  find  an 
artist  who  thought  enough  about  religion  to  venture  from  the  beaten 
path  of  theology,  and  still  more  to  find  he  was  from  the  heart  of  Con 
necticut.  In  1842  or  1843, 1  went  and  introduced  myself,  and  asked  him 
to  make  a  portrait  of  Lydia,  but  he  was  just  going  to  Europe.  I  met 
him  in  Rome,  and  we  had  many  good  times  together.  In  1851,1 
thought  that  he  was  to  marry  E.  L.,  but  said  nothing  until-  the 
engagement  took  place ;  then  I  told  him  of  it.  It  pleased  him  much 
that  my  feeling  had  indicated  what  his  had  told  him  before.  I  helped 
marry  them,  May  19,  1853.  He  painted  Lydia's  and  my  portrait  the 
following  autumn.*  Now  he  is  dead.  1  went  to  Manchester,  Conn., 
to  attend  his  funeral,  to-day  (Sept.  12,  1856),  my  wife's  birthday.  He 
was  not  quite  forty-six.  A  dear,  noble  man  of  genius. 

Mr.  Cheney  owed  the  awakening  of  his  religious  life  to  Mr. 

*  This  was  a  labor  of  love  which  Mr.  Cheney  would  insist  upon  performing. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  295 

Parker's  influence,  which  cleared  away  a  good  deal  of  inherited 
rubbish,  and  set  his  pure  and  lofty  soul  open  to  the  light.  We 
shall  never  know  all  whom  he  thus  liberated,  to  whom  he  gave 
righteousness  for  doctrine. 

When  Mr.  Desor,  the  accomplished  naturalist,  was  in  America, 
he  was  a  welcome  guest  at  the  house  in  Exeter  Place,  for  he 
brought  what  Mr.  Parker  always  craved,  facts,  fruitful  sugges 
tions,  systematic  views,  a  great  familiarity  with  many  provinces 
of  science.  Seldom  has  a  man  better  equipped  with  knowledge, 
or  with  a  finer  capacity  for  sure  and  careful  synthesis,  come  from 
the  Old  World  to  lend  his  talent  to  the  New.  But  he  brought 
also  a  pure  heart,  simple  habits,  great  personal  integrity.  These 
qualities  were  more  welcome  to  the  preacher  and  doer  of  righteous 
ness  than  all  his  scientific  attainments,  and  they  became  most 
intimate  and  dear  to  each  other.  It  was  a  dark  day  to  Mr. 
Parker  when  Desor  felt  obliged  to  return  to  Europe. 

It  is  pleasant  to  remember  that  we,  at  least,  have  always  appreciated 
him,  have  always  been  friendly  to  him  ;  and  nothing  has  ever  occurred, 
in  nearly  five  years'  acquaintance  and  almost  four  years  of  intimate 
friendship,  to  cause  the  least  regret.  He  has  always  been  on  the 
humane  side,  always  on  the  just  side.  His  love  of  truth,  and  sober 
industry,  his  intuitive  perception  of  the  relations  of  things,  his  quick 
sight  for  comprehensive  generalizations,  have  made  me  respect  him  a 
good  deal.  His  character  has  made  me  love  him  very  much.  There 
is  no  man  that  I  should  miss  so  much  of  all  my  acquaintance.  I  count 
it  a  privilege  to  have  known  him,  and  it  will  be  a  joy  to  remember  him. 

Travellers  and  exiles  from  all  lands  reported  themselves  early 
at  the  house  of  the  man  of  whose  humanity  and  love  for  liberty 
they  had  heard.  Exiles  especially,  who  were  generally  cultivated 
and  enlightened  men,  with  patriotic  reasons  for  expatriation,  re 
ceived  a  fraternal  welcome.  He  obtained  employment  for  many, 
was  ready  with  pecuniary  assistance  to  the  extent  of  his  means, 
and  only  levied  a  toll  upon  the  knowledge  of  the  applicants. 
But  they  could  never  smuggle  anything  intelligible  past  his  scru 
tiny  into  the  country.  Of  one  he  learned  the  latest  speculations 
of  comparative  philology ;  of  another,  the  state  of  religion ;  of 
another,  curious  facts  of  physiology  j  of  another,  popular  statistics; 
of  another,  information  concerning  professors  and  public  men. 
He  knew  how  to  find,  across  the  disabilities  of  various  languages, 
the  precise  forte  and  vocation  of  all  these  talented  men.  Notes 
of  conversations  are  recorded  which  were  carried  on  in  five  or 
six  different  languages  in  the  same  evening  company.  But  he 
did  not  speak  any  foreign  language  with  fluency. 


296  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

TO  REV.  S.  J.  MAY. 

June  17,  1851.— I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  Dr.  Otto  Fock, 
Professor  of  Philosophy  at  Kiel,  in  Denmark,  who  wants  to  come  to 
America.  He  is  about  forty  years  old,  learned  and  able,  but,  alas !  a 
republican.  He  cannot  live  in  Germany :  the  police  look  after  him  too 
sharp.  Can  we  do  anything  for  him  here  ?  He  is  learned  and  indus 
trious  ;  will  work.  Can  we  find  a  place  worthy  of  him  ?  He  has  written  a 
valuable  book — History  of  "  Socinianismus."  Perhaps  he  might  write  an 
*'  excellent  t-r-a-c-t "  for  Father  B — ,  or  prove  that  the  Apostle  Thomas 
was  a  Unitarian,  or  if  not  Thomas,  then,  at  least,  Jude  or  Judas. 

Besides  Dr.  F.,  another  German  Doctor  of  Philosophy  has  written 
for  the  same  purpose,  to  find  a  home  in  America.  He  is  a  philologian, 
Dr.  Lobeck,  from  Konigsberg,  a  learned  man,  librarian  of  the  University 
at  that  place.  He  has  written  some  books,  and  has  been  an  editor  of 
a  Volksbote  ("  People's  Messenger,")  and  is  a  democrat.  Do  tell  me  if 
we  can  do  anything  for  these  noble-hearted  men 

TO  HON.  GEORGE  BANCROFT. 

Boston,  March  1,  1852. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  am  waiting  impatiently  for  your  new  book ;  if  it  is  not 
the  finest  piece  of  historical  composition  in  the  English  language,  I 
shall  never  quite  forgive  you ;  for  then  it  will  not  fulfil  the  prophecy  I 
have  often  made.  But  I  write  now  about  other  matters.  There  is  a 
noble  German  Gelehrte,  Dr.  Giinther,  from  Leipsic,  about  to  establish 
a  school  for  boys,  at  Newport,  and  I  wish  you  to  send  him  your  little 
folks.  Dr.  G.  is  a  very  accomplished  man — a  great  Historiker  and 
Philolog,  and  a  true  gentleman.  He  was  one  of  the  Frankfurt  Par 
liament  men ;  is  now  in  exile,  and  has  been  teaching  Danish,  Swedish, 
Icelandish,  and  old  Gothic,  in  Boston  this  winter.  Please  remember 
him,  and  not  forget  Truly  yours,  THEO.  PARKER. 

When  one  or  two  intimates,  who  were  good  listeners,  and 
knew  what  to  expect,  came  into  his  study,  he  would  turn 
towards  them  from  his  desk,  dropping  instantly  the  care  of  the 
moment,  to  set  forth  in  racy  flow,  as  if  the  business  of  the  week 
were  to  anticipate  and  enjoy  this  visit  in  particular.  No  matter 
what  lay  upon  the  desk — Welsh  Laws — History  of  Canon  Law 
— a  volume  of  Littre's  Hippocrates — a  heap  of  authorities  for 
an  article — or  sheets  where  a  sermon  was  just  on  the  turn  of  a 
wave,  with  whose  break  the  Music  Hall  should  echo, — he  would 
start  with  the  matter  which  he  had  in  hand,  as  if  you  came  to 
see  him  about  it,  and  thence  find  his  way  into  a  most  delightful 
monologue,  which  lasted,  with  occasional  runlets  from  the  listen 
ers,  as  long  as  they  had  the  hardihood  to  remain.  It  was  neither 
metaphysical  nor  theological,  had  no  didactic  malice,  and  was  not 
oppressively  bent  upon  convincing.  You  would  say  it  was  a 
reverie,  speaking  aloud  before  he  knew  it,  if  it  were  not  for  the 
pleased  recognition  of  your  presence.  As  it  went  on,  he  would 


THEODORE    PARKER.  297 

make  such  compact  and  portable  statements  of  whatever  subject 
happened  to  be  caught  up,  that  you  felt  for  your  pencil  and  note 
book.  It  seldom  failed  to  draw  in  his  humor,  which  was  an 
inexorable  common-sense  at  play,  engaged  mischievously  in  steal 
ing  the  clothes  away  from  some  skeleton  doctrine,  or  the  rouge 
and  false  teeth  from  some  mediaeval  spinster  of  the  popular 
churches.  And  it  was  none  the  worse  for  a  touch  or  two  of 
mimicry,  just  enough  to  let  a  person  here  and  there  appear  to 
color  the  bigotry  or  the  foolishness, — not  to  make  you  despise 
whomever  you  recognized,  it  was  too  genial  for  that,  and  imper 
sonal,  like  an  improvisatore.  If  a  phantom  of  some  "  fee  grief  " 
swept  across  the  surface,  and  chilled  it  for  a  moment,  it  was  soon 
gone ;  you  had  hardly  begun  to  feel  uneasy.  It  was  let  out  by 
his  absolute  sincerity,  which  was  the  only  patrol  he  had  around 
his  wealth  and  beauty :  as  ineffective  as  the  broad  bright  mea 
dows  of  Con  way  to  repress  the  mountain  streams.  And  how 
you  rejoiced  that  he  was  incapable  of  secrecy  when  some  feeling 
of  Religion,  that  almost  prayed  in  the  deepening  voice,  some 
personal  conviction  of  his  own  immortality,  or  of  the  universal 
love  which  his  faith  seemed  to  draw  and  condensje  for  you  in  that 
book-lined  study  itself,  as  if  to  dim  its  titled  wisdom,  took  advan 
tage  of  his  life's  obedience  to  endow  your  morning  call. 

It  was  also  a  good  thing  to  find  him  in  the  cars,  going  to  or 
returning  from  his  lectures  in  the  East  or  West.  He  was  never 
so  deep  in  his  carpet-bag  of  books  as  to  miss  the  opportunity  for 
some  gentle  and  courteous  word.  He  often  would  approach 
women  who  appeared  to  be  plunged  in  sorrow,  to  befriend  them 
with  good  words  and  offices.  At  the  end  of  one  of  these  jour 
neys  he  said : — 

"  Now,  I  have  given  up  my  seat  to  several  women,  fed  babies  with 
candy,  and  made  myself  agreeable,  and  nobody  but  an  old  squaw  with 
a  load  of  baskets  has  recognized  it.  And  she  only  touched  her  hat." 

He  liked  to  draw  bright-looking  young  men  into  conversation, 
and  sometimes  in  this  way  has  given  determining  courses  to 
vague  and  restless  lives.  He  was  very  sharp  to  see  who  might 
be  helped  in  this  way.  In  his  carpet-bag  he  always  carried  a 
little  silk  bag  of  comfits  for  the  restless  children,  and  thought  it 
no  loss  of  time  from  his  book  to  leave  his  seat  and  win  them 
back  to  quiet. 

It  was  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  real  sorrows  of  his  life 
that  he  had  no  children.  He  was  capable,  as  few  men  are,  of 


298  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

guiding  children  towards  the  Blessed  Life.  He  had  all  which  a 
child  needs — love,  simplicity,  contempt  for  doctrinal  views,  won 
der  and  awe  for  natural  marvels,  and  none  for  ecclesiastical,  an 
intense  sympathy  with  the  "joys  of  mere  living/'  a  genius  for 
truthfulness.  He  could  never  conceal  that  he  languished  for  the 
society  of  children. 

At  one  time  in  our  life  we  need  objects  of  instinctive  passion,  then 
objects  of  instinctive  affection.  Neither  can  take  the  place  of  the 
other,  and  both  are  needed  for  the  welfare  of  man.  But  how  many 
are  destitute  of  both,  in  the  present  state  of  society !  I  suffer  con 
tinually  from  lacking  an  object  of  instinctive  affection.  I  want  a  little 
Mites  o'  Teants,  or  Bits  o'  Blossoms.*  I  nursed  my  affections  for  Mr. 
Russell's  little  ones,  till  the  affections  grew  to  a  great  growth.  Now 
there  are  no  objects  for  them  to  cling  to.  So  my  vine  trails  on  the 
ground,  and  earth-worms  devour  the  promise  of  the  grape. 

Oct.,  1856. — But  my  immediate  help  I  find  in  industry — literary 
and  philanthropic  work.  Yet  even  with  that  help,  in  the  pauses  of  my 
toil,  the  sense  of  loneliness  comes  over  me  and  fills  me  with  pain. 
How  much  worse  must  it  be  with  women,  and  especially  the  unmarried! 
With  women  the  love  of  children  is  stronger  than  with  men,  and  they 
have  fewer  external  duties  to  divert  their  thoughts  from  their  own 
sadness. 

A  neighbour,  and  member  of  his  parish,  sends  in  joy  to  tell 
him  of  the  birth  of  a  child.  He  thus  replies,  addressing  the 
father  and  mother  : — 

I  thank  you  for  so  kindly  remembering  me  in  such  an  access  of  new 
gladness  to  your  hearth  and  hearts — nay,  heart,  for  there  is  but  one, 
especially  at  such  a  time,  in  man  and  wife.  I  have  sons  and  daugh 
ters,  sympathetically,  in  the  good  fortune  of  my  friends.  I  was  ex 
pecting  to  hear  of  this  advent  in  your  family.  God  bless  the  little 
immortal,  who  comes  a  new  Messiah  to  cheer  and  bless  the  world  of 
home. 

Here  is  another  reply,  made  on  a  similar  occasion  : — 

It  is  my  lot  to  have  no  little  darlings  to  call  my  own.  Yet  all  the 
more  I  rejoice  in  the  heavenly  blessings  of  my  friends.  The  thing 
that  I  miss  most  deeply  in  coming  from  Roxbury  to  Boston  is  the 
society  of  my  neighbours'  little  children,  whom  I  saw  several  times  a 
day,  and  fondled,  and  carried,  and  trotted,  and  dandled,  in  all  sorts  of 
ways,  as  if  they  had  been  mine  own. 

Well :  God  bless  the  life  that  is  given,  and  the  life  that  is  spared, 
and  the  life  which  rejoices  in  them  both  !  I  thank  the  new  mother  for 
remembering  an  old  friend  in  such  an  hour.  So  give  her  my  most 
affectionate  greetings,  and  believe  me,  happily,  yours. 

These  letters  to  the  Rev.  Wm.  H.  White,  his  old  teacher,  now 
deceased,  come  from  a  warm  and  faithful  heart.  It  need  not  be 

*  Pet  names  for  the  children  of  his  dear  neighbours. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  299 

told  here  in  what  way,  more  substantial  than  by  letter- writing, 
he  befriended  his  teacher's  family,  and  for  years  supplied  a  gene 
rous  culture  to  his  daughter.  And  that  is  only  one  instance  of 
Mr.  Parker's  beneficence,  out  of  which  pure  pleasures  flowed  for 
him  eveiy  year : — 

West  Roxbury,  26th  March,  1846. 

DEAR  FRIEND, — I  found  your  letter  in  the  Boston  Post-Office  yester 
day,  and  thank  you  most*  heartily  for  remembering  an  old  scholar 
who  has  never  thought  of  you  but  with  gratitude  and  affection.  I 
supposed  you  had  forgotten  me,  or  I  should  have  sent  you  my  little 
publications  before.  1  did  not  know  that  you  would  take  an  interest 
in  one  whom  you  so  much  befriended  twenty-five  years  ago.  But,  trust 
me,  I  have  inquired  all  about  you  with  the  greatest  interest.  If  the 
boy  Theodore  was  affectionate,  I  think  you  will  find  the  man  is  the 
same  old  sixpence.  I  may  be  "proud  "  and  very  "wicked"  for  aught  I 
know ;  I  will  not  say  I  am  not — you  shall  come  and  see — but  at  least 
I  do  not  forget  my  old  teacher.  I  passed  through  your  town  once,  on 
a  rainy  day,  with  three  ladies  in  a  coach  I  did  not  pass  within  a  mile 
of  your  house,  to  my  great  disappointment ;  but  I  learned  of  your  wel 
fare  from  one  of  your  parishioners  whom  I  found  in  the  way.  Once 
since  I  passed,  in  the  Rail  Road  I  think,  through  Littleton.  Otherwise 
I  was  never  in  your  town.  You  inquire  after  my  doings,  &c.  I  have 
been  married  almost  nine  years,  but  have  no  children.  This  is  the 
only  affliction  of  my  life  almost.  But  I  never  complain  of  that,  for  I 
am  a  singularly  happy  man.  You  shall  ask  my  wife  if  I  love  her — or 
shall  see  her,  and  then  guess.  I  think  my  neighbours  love  me — I 
know  their  children  do.  I  have  been  nearly  nine  years  in  this  place, 
and  think  I  have  but  one  enemy  in  it— that  is  a  dog  whom  I  never 
treated  ill,  but  give  a  bone  to  now  and  then.  Still,  he  growls  at  me, 
and  bit  me  the  other  day :  since  that  time  I  have  given  him  over  as  not 
to  be  overcome  by  me.  I  think  he  is  the  only  thing  living  that  owes 
me  a  personal  spite.  I  had  rather  have  the  affection  of  good  plain 
folks,  like  my  neighbours,  than  all  the  fame  of  Luther  and  the  power 
of  Napoleon.  As  for  my  theology,  it  has  grown  out  of  me  as  unavoid 
ably  as  my  arm  has  grown  with  my  body.  I  think  it  a  Christian 
theology,  and  a  true  one.  Doubtless  there  are  errors  connected  with 
it :  I  will  gladly  cast  them  away,  soon  as  I  find  them  errors.  Yet  I 
think  there  are  truths  also  which  will  not  perish ;  still,  I  am  but  a  very 
humble  seeker  after  truth.  That  you  may  judge  for  yourself,  I  will 
leave  for  you,  at  Munroe's  book-store,  a  copy  of  all  my  works,  which  I 
beg  you  to  accept  as  a  humble  token  of  esteem  from  an  old  pupil, 
though  it  may  be  an  unworthy  one.  I  remember  how  it  grieved  me 
once  to  get  a  spot  on  your  Latin  Grammar  (Smith's  N.  H.  Lat.  Gram.), 
on  the  pronoun  ille,  ilia,  illud,  which  you  kindly  lent  me.  I  hope  you 
will  take  my  gift  as  a  return  for  the  damage  I  did  your  book.  I  wanted 
to  send  you  the  first  thing  I  ever  published,  and  all  since,  but  I  feared 
you  would  not  care  for  it,  and  so,  through  sheer  modesty,  have  been 
thought  proud.  You  ask  for  my  sister — she  has  passed  on  where  she 
belonged ;  so  have  all  my  sisters.  Out  of  eleven  children,  three  only 
are  left— my  brother  Isaac,  at  Lexington,  whom  you  never  knew. ;  my 


300  LITE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

brother  Hiram,  at  Lowell,  whom  you  remember ;  and  myself.  The  red 
dish  haired  girl  you  mention  was  only  a  friend ;  she  became  almost  a 
sister,  but  not  quite,  and  has  gone  I  know  not  where.  I  have  not  seen 
your  face  since  you  were  at  a  school-examination  in  Lincoln.  Then 
you  sat  down  beside  me,  and  did  not  know  me !  I  cried  all  night  at 
the  thought  of  it,  and  weep  a  little  now  in  sympathetic  recollection. 
If  you  ever  come  this  way,  it  will  gladden  my  heart  to  see  you.  Next 
winter  I  shall  live  in  Boston,  and  will  entertain  you  hospitably,  if  you 
will  visit  your  "  dear  old  pupil,"  T.  P. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

Boston,  14th  March,  1848. 

DEAR  FRIEND, — It  was  not  I  that  sent  you  the  sermon  on  J.  Q. 
Adams,  so  you  have  one  friend  that  you  did  not  think  of.  I  sent  none 
of  those  copies  of  the  sermon.  One  of  these  days  I  think  I  shall  print 
the  sermon  myself,  in  a  more  full  and  complete  form,  and  shall  then 
be  happy  to  send  it  to  you.  You  object  to  the  "  Cohasset  Rocks  ;"  the 
words  were  not  in  the  MS.,  but  I  selected  the  figure  at  the  moment, 
and  for  this  reason  :  I  once  went  a-fishing  with  Mr.  Adams  (and 
others)  on  the  Cohasset  Rocks.  They  are  large,  and  extend  a  long  way 
on  the  coast,  and  are  much  assailed  with  storms.  Everybody  at 
Boston  knows  the  Rocks,  and  Mr.  A.  often  went  down  there,  and  so 
they  were  in  my  mind  connected  with  him.  I  prefer  the  "  Cohasset 
Rocks "  in  such  a  connection  to  "  Gibraltar,"  because  they  are  an 
object  well  known,  and  the  other  not  well  known  by  the  sight.  If  I 
were  to  speak  of  birds  in  a  sermon,  I  should  not  mention  the  night 
ingale  and  the  skylark,  but  the  brown  thrasher  and  the  blackbird,  for 
the  same  reason.  I  am  glad  you  like  the  sermon :  it  is  the  only  pro 
duction  of  my  pen  that  I  have  heard  praised  more  than  blamed.  It  has 
been  popular,  if  you  will  believe  it.  I  know  not  why,  and  do  not  know 
whether  it  is  to  my  credit  or  otherwise,  that  it  is  so.  You  were  kind 
enough  to  say  it  had  not  my  usual  faults  of  style,  or  of  thought.  I 
thank  you  for  the  frankness  of  the  statement.  1  have  always  been 
most  grateful  to  persons  who  made  me  ashamed  and  not  satisfied.  If 
you  will  tell  me  what  are  my  usual  faults  of  style  and  of  thought,  you 
will  do  me  a  great  service.  I  never  sought  praise  so  much  as  perfec 
tion,  and  shall  be  very  grateful  to  you  if  you  will  do  me  that  kindness. 
Fas  est  et  ab  hoste  doceri,  but  my  hostes,  though  numerous  enough, 
have  done  me  little  good  by  their  criticisms :  you  were  an  early  friend, 
and  did  me  a  great  service  once.  Why  won't  you  do  me  a  greater  one 
now?  Once,  when  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  boy,  in  the  old  school-house 
on  the  north  side  of  the  road  in  Lexington,  the  first  winter  that  you 
taught  a  school  there,  one  of  your  acquaintance  told  my  sister  that 
you  had  spoken  of  me  to  her  at  a  party  the  night  before.  "  Well," 
said  I  to  my  sister,  "what  did  he  say  ?"  She  returned,  "  He  said  that 
he  was  disappointed  in  Theodore ;  they  told  him  he  was  '  a  smart 
boy,'  and  he  found  him  a  good  one,  and  put  him  upon  Latin,  but  he 
would  not  study  ;  he  did  not  get  along  well,  was  lazy,  arid  loved  play 
better  than  his  book.  He  was  sorry  he  had  put  him  into  Latin,"  &c., 
and  I  was  eight  years  old,  turning  to  nine.  I  went  off  and  cried 
awhile — that  I  had  disappointed  you,  whom  I  loved  with  all  my  might ; 


THEODORE    PARKER  301 

f. 

but  the  next  day  you  had  to  take  it,  the  lesson  was  the  verb  sum,  and 
its  compounds,  in  "  The  N.  H.  Latin  Grammar."  I  recited  six  times 
that  forenoon.  It  was  Saturday,  and  you  heard  me  when  I  had  any 
thing  to  say,  and  asked  me  repeatedly  what  had  got  into  me.  I  didn't 
tell  you,  but  thought  you  knew.  The  next  day  my  sister,  who  had  seen 
what  took  place,  told  me  thatyou  had  never  said  so  of  me,  but  quite  differ 
ently.  Well,  the  impulse  lasted,  and  I  remember  well  that  I  repeated 
all  the  rules  in  the  Syntax  (I  think  they  were  eighty-four)  without 
prompting  or  without  a  question  being  asked  me.  So  much  for  your 
criticism  then.  Now,  I  think  it  might  do  me  more  good,  for  certainly  I 
am  quite  as  humble  as  then.  So  let  me  have  the  criticism.  I  sent 
you  a  sermon  this  morning  before  receiving  your  letter,  and  am  truly 
your  old  pupil  and  present  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  13th  May,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  OLD  MASTER, — It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  write  me  such  a 
nice,  good,  generous  letter  the  other  day.  Trust  me,  your  words  of  sym 
pathy  and  of  esteem  are  very  dear  to  me.  and  your  words  of  rebuke,  of 
caution,  of  warning  are  as  dear  and  as  much  valued.  I  love  most 
those  that  are  so  sincere  as  to  tell  me  of  my  faults,  and  shall  always 
value  your  admonitions  as  much  as  when  you  gave  them  to  me 
over  a  little  Latin  Grammar,  in  the  little  black  school-house  at  Lexing 
ton.  You  have  forgotten  that  you  once  rebuked  me  for  asking  to  have 
the  same  thing  explained  twice.  I  met,  in  «*  Historia  Sacra,"  the  word 
avulsum,  and  asked  you  what  it  came  from.  You  showed  me  avello  in 
the  dictionary ;  but  the  next  day,  or  the  next  week,  I  met  the  same 
avulsum  again,  and  asked  the  same  question  a  second  time.  You  told 
me  '*  I  showed  you  that  the  other  day."  "  I  know  it,  sir,  but  I  have 
forgotten  it."  "  You  must  not  forget  it  again,"  said  you,  and  showed 
me  avello  for  the  second  time.  Well,  I  will  try  and  profit  by  a  rebuke 
now  as  much  as  then.  So  if  you  will  always  point  out  my  faults,  while 
you  commend  any  excellence  you  may  discover  or  imagine,  I  shall  re 
joice,  and  will  try  and  mend. 

I  had  hoped  to  see  you  at  your  own  house  long  before  this,  but  much 
work  forbids  ;  still  I  hope  to  see  you  at  mine  on  Anniversary  Week. 
With  best  regards  to  you  and  yours,  believe  me  your  old  pupil  and 
hearty  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

TO   THE   DAUGHTER. 

Newton  Corner,  21  Sept.,  1853. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WHITE, — I  thank  you  for  the  tender  letter  you  wrote  me 
about  your  late  lamented  and  beloved  father.  I  have  been  living  out  of 
town  all  summer  long,  and  seldom  see  a  minister,  and  never  a  theologi 
cal  newspaper ;  and  still  more,  at  the  time  of  your  father's  departure  I 
was  absent  on  a  little  journey.  After  I  wrote  the  letter,  as  I  went  in 
to  Mr.  Crosby's  to  leave  the  book  for  your  father,  Mr.  C.  asked  me  if  I 
did  not  know  that  Mr.  White  was  dead.  It  came  upon  me  with  entire 
surprise.  I  knew  from  his  last  letter  to  me  that  he  was  ill,  but  I  heard 


302  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

* 

afterwards  that  he  was  better,  that  he  preached  as  usual,  and  supposed 
the  sickness  was  all  over.  Judge,  then,  of  my  surprise  when  informed 
of  his  departure  to  a  fairer  world.  But  my  letter  was  in  the  post- 
office,  and  perhaps  already  on  its  way.  I  could  only  wait  till  some 
one  should  reply  to  it. 

How  much  I  lament  now  that  I  have  never  heen  to  Littleton  to  see 
him  !  But,  in  a  life  a  good  deal  too  busy  for  the  delights  of  friend 
ship,  even  when  friends  are  within  "  ten  minutes'  walk,"  I  never  found 
just  the  right  time  when  I  could  go  as  well  as  not,  but  continually  put 
off  the  pleasure  against  a  more  "convenient  season."  Several  days 
this  summer  I  fixed  for  visiting  him,  but  something  always  prevented. 
Now,  the  good  man  has  outgrown  my  friendship.  I  have  always  felt  a 
great  veneration  for  him.  such  as  1  felt  for  but  few  men.  He  was  a 
most  excellent  teacher,  taking  a  school  at  Lexington  (my  father  was  the 
school  committee-man  who  engaged  him)  when  it  was  in  a  sad  condi 
tion,  and  improving  it  quite  surprisingly.  He  filled  his  pupils  with  a 
love  of  study.  I  know  not  why,  but  in  a  little  country  school  he  set 
me  to  study  Latin.  I  went  through  the  Latin  Grammar,  and  began  to 
construe  "  Historia  Sacra "  the  first  winter,  and  finished  it  the  next, 
and  began  the  Greek  Grammar.  The  school  lasted  only  twelve  or 
thirteen  weeks.  I  shall  never  cease  to  be  grateful  to  him  for  all  the 
kindness  he  showed  me,  and  the  gratuitous  interest  he  took  in  my 
studies,  for  it  was  no  part  of  his  duty  to  teach  a  boy  Latin. 

He  lent  me  his  Latin  Dictionary,  a  copy  of  Young's  Latin  Dic 
tionary,  a  book  which  I  look  up  to  with  great  respect.  This  is  the 
only  copy  of  that  dictionary  that  I  ever  saw ;  it  has  long  been  out  of 
print,  replaced  by  better  works,  but  the  old  well-worn  copy  he  lent  me 
lives  in  my  memory  as  a  sacred  memorial  connected  with  the  remem 
brance  of  one  1  hold  so  dear.  He  taught  school  for  us  at  Lexington 
two  winters,  then  he  found  a  better  place  for  the  next  winter,  at  Lin 
coln.  1  was  sick  in  the  autumn  after  his  second  winter,  and  one  day, 
as  I  was  better,  and  out  of  danger,  one  of  the  neighbours  told  me  that 
"  Master  White  ain't  a-going  to  keep  the  school  this  winter."  I 
turned  my  face  to  the  wall  and  wept  aloud,  and  would  not  be  com 
forted. 

He  endeared  himself  to  the  hearts  of  all  his  scholars,  and  of  their 
parents  too.  Two  years  ago,  I  went  up  to  Lexington  to  dedicate  a  new 
and  handsome  school-house  on  the  very  spot  where  he  first  taught,  and 
it  did  my  heart  good  to  recount  the  valuable  services  of  your  father 
and  his  successor,  Mr.  Fiske,  also  from  Lincoln,  in  the  little,  mean, 
and  uncomfortable  house  which  was  there  thirty  years  before.  Some 
of  his  scholars  were  present,  and  approved  the  statements;  but  most  of 
them  have  already  passed  on  in  the  road  which  he  has  now  traversed. 
I  only  lament  that  I  never  visited  him  in  his  own  house.  From  Mr. 
Emerson  and  Mrs.  Ripley  I  have  often  heard  accounts  of  his  excel 
lence  as  a  minister,  as  a  husband,  and  a  father,  Mr.  Pearson  also  has 
been  abundant  in  his  praise :  others  that  1  have  seen  confirmed  to  me 
what  I  suppose  the  "daily  beauty  of  his  life"  sufficiently  attested  to 
you.  I  thank  you  for  writing  me  the  account  of  his  last  moments, 
full  of  a  tender  interest  and  melancholy  to  me.  Yet  there  is  a 
triumph  in  the  death  of  such  a  man.  I  wish  he  could  have  been 


THEODORE   PARKER.  303 

spared  longer,  but  it  is  well  to  die  in  "  God's  time,"  and  he  rests  from  his 
labours.  I  dedicated  the  little  volume  of  sermons,*  which  I  wrote 
about,  to  him  and  Mr.  Fiske.  I  am  sorry  he  could  not  have  known  it. 
The  dedication  was  printed  before  he  ceased  to  be  mortal. 

Present  my  kindest  consolations  to  your  mother,  and  believe  me, 
with  respect  and  affection,  truly  yours, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

Here  is  part  of  a  letter  to  Miss  Margaret  Fuller,  written  in 
1841  : — 

Touching  the  article  (for  the  Dial.}  I  think  I  shall  finish  it  before 
Wednesday,  for  there  are  two  working  days,  arid  still  more,  two  work 
ing  nights,  'twixt  us  and  that  time.  My  design  was  to  have  finished 
it  on  Saturday,  and  then  come  to  perpetrate  a  long- contemplated  visit 
upon  you,  Monday  evening.  But  thought  would  not  flow  smooth,  and 
I  made  small  progress  last  week,  for  my  brain  was  dull  (I  never  write 
well  when  Mrs.  Russell  or  Lydia  are  out  of  the  neighbourhood),  and  it 
would  not  go  forward. 

Herewith  I  send  you  a  couple  of  little  bits  of  verse,  which  I  confess  to 
you,  sub  rosd  rosissimd,  are  mine.  Now,  I  don't  think  myself  made  for  a 
poet,  least  of  all  for  an  amatory  poet.  So,  if  you  throw  the  **  lines  " 
under  the  grate  in  your  critical  wisdom,  I  shall  not  be  grieved,  vexed, 
or  ruffled;  for  though  I  have  enough  of  the  irritabile  in  my  composi 
tion,  I  have  none  of  the  irritabile  vatis. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

Went  to  New  York  to  see  the  Hunts  and  Apthorps  embark  for 
Europe  in  the  Arago.  It  is  sad  to  think  of  it,  but  they  mean  to  stay 
three  years  (365  x  3  zz  1095.  52  x  3  =  156)!  It  is  appalling  to  think 
of.  Objects  of  affection  I  miss  more  than  all  others,  and  they  are 
also  objects  of  intellectual  and  other  excitement  and  delight. 

A  week  or  two  after  this  he  went  out  to  West  Roxbury  to 
look  up  the  favourite  spots  and  solicit  their  refreshment.  But 
another  very  dear  friend  was  absent  from  her  home  for  the 
season,  and  the  visit  was  a  failure  : — 

Unheeded  grow  the  precious  flowers, 

No  eye  woos  now  their  beauty : 
I  only  came  in  plaintive  hours 

To  strengthen  for  sore  duty ; 

But  the  new  sadness  of  the  place 

Upon  my  heart  is  stealing : 
Nature  without  that  July  face 

Will  paralyze  my  feeling. 

The  departure  of  his  friend  has  done  an  injury  to  all  the 
associations  of  his  old  home.  The  altar  remains,  but  he  cannot 

*  Sermons  of  Theism,  Atheism,  and  the  Popular  Theology. 


304  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF* 

muster   heart   enough   to    perform  the  simple  rites  of  friend 
ship  : — 

There  grows  a  pale  hut  precious  flower 

In  a  consecrated  spot : 
How  oft  I've  gathered  it  for  thee, 

And  said,  "  Forget  me  not !" 

But  now  the  gem  ungather'd  blooms, 

I  pass  the  symbol  by  ; 
Why  should  1  take  it  from  the  earth  ? 

It  will  not  meet  thine  eye. 

Still  grow,  O  pale  and  precious  flower, 

In  consecrated  spot  ; 
And  often  as  I  pass  thee  by, 

I'll  say,  "  Forget  me  not!" 

The  first  letter  which  follows  was  written  in  the  railroad 
car.  He  complains  of  the  fatigues  of  travelling  and  lecturing, 
but  these  were  aggravated  by  his  custom  of  studying  and 
writing  in  the  cars.  His  most  formidable  article  of  baggage 
was  a  carpet-bag  stuffed  with  the  books  which  at  any  time  were 
occupying  his  attention.  When  he  was  not  conversing  with 
some  acquaintance,  or  a  stranger  resolved  upon  a  confidential 
interview  with  the  victim  whose  head  and  face  he  recognized, 
he  was  drawing  knowledge  out  of  his  portable  library.  All 
the  traction  during  the  journey  was  performed  by  himself  and 
the  locomotive. 

TO   MISS   HUNT. 

March  12,  1857,  Northern  New- York  Railroad  Cars. 

DEAR,  GOOD  SARAH, — If  I  don't  write  you  now,  I  shall  have  no  time 
for  next  mail,  so  this  little  mite  of  a  pencil  scrawl.  It  \wm't  be  worth 
much,  for  I  am  tired  and  worn  out  with  over  much  work  and  exposure. 
Some  weeks  since,  I  went  to  Western  New  York ;  travelled  from  IVTon-  - 
day  morning  till  Saturday  night,  and  expected  to  have  a  reasonable 
dinner  each  day,  and  to  sleep  quiet  in  my  bed  at  night,  and  so  come 
home  sounder  and  stronger  than  when  I  went  away.  "  Man  proposes 
and  God  disposes."  I  had  two  tolerable  dinners,  and  one  night  in  a 
bed,  four  nights  in  railroad  cars.  I  have  not  recovered  from  it 
since,  but  have  been  slipping  behindhand  more  and  more  each  week. 

This  will  be  the  last  winter  of  my  lecturing  so  extensively  (perhaps). 
Hereafter,  I  will  limit  my  services  to  forty  lectures  in  a  winter,  and 
put  my  terms,  as  Chapin  does,  at  F.A.MiE.,  i.  e.,  Fifty  (dollars)  And 
My  Expenses. 

This  business  of  lecturing  is  an  original  American  contrivance  for 
educating  the  people.  The  world  has  nothing  like  it.  In  it  are  com 
bined  the  best  things  of  the  Church,  i.e.,  the  preaching,  and  of  the 
College,  i.e.,  the  informing  thought,  with  some  of  the  fun  of  the  Theatre. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  305 

Besides,  it  gives  the  "  rural  districts  "  a  chance  to  see  the  men  they 
read  about — to  see  the  lions,  for  the  lecture  is  also  a  show  to  the  eyes. 
Now,  I  think  this  is  one  of  the  most  admirable  means  of  educating  the 
people.  For  ten  years  past,  six  or  eight  of  the  most  progressive  and 
powerful  minds  in  America  have  been  lecturing  fifty  or  a  hundred 
times  in  the  year.  Surely,  some  must  dance  after  so  much  piping,  and 
that  of  so  moving  a  sort !  I  can  see  what  a  change  has  taken  place 
through  the  toil  of  these  missionaries.  But  none  know  the  hardships 
of  the  lecturer's  life.  Curtis  has  a  most  funny  article  thereon. 

[A  long  extract.] 

This  is  extravagant  for  a  description  of  the  instantial  of  lecturing ; 
but,  alas !  it  is  below  the  exceptional  cases. 

Thus :  in  one  of  the  awful  nights  in  winter,  I  went  to  lecture  at . 

It  was  half  charity.  I  gave  up  the  Anti-Slavery  Festival  for  the  lecture, 
rode  fifty-six  miles  in  the  cars,  leaving  Boston  at  half-past  four  o'clock, 
and  reaching  the  end  of  the  railroad  at  half-past  six — drove  seven 

miles  in  a  sleigh,  and  reached  the  house  of  ,  who  had  engaged  me 

to  come.  It  was  time  to  begin  ;  I  lectured  one  hour  and  three  quarters, 
and  returned  to  the  house.  Was  offered  no  supper  before  the  lecture, 
and  none  after,  till  the  chaise  came  to  the  door  to  take  me  back  again 
to  the  railroad  station,  seven  miles  off,  where  I  was  to  pass  the  night 
and  take  the  cars  at  half-past  six  next  morning. 

Luckily,  I  always  cany  a  few  little  creature-comforts  in  my  wallet. 
I  ate  a  seed-cake  or  two,  and  a  fig  with  lumps  of  sugar.  We  reached 
the  tavern  at  eleven,  could  get  nothing  to  eat  at  that  hour,  and,  as  it 
was  a  temperance  house,  not  a  glass  of  ale,  which  is  a  good  night 
cap.  It  took  three  quarters  of  an  hour  to  thaw  out : — went  to  bed  at 
twelve,  in  a  cold  room,  was  called  up  at  five,  had,  what  is  universal, 

a  tough  steak,  sour  bread,  and  potatoes  swimming  in  fat.  wanted 

me  to  deduct  from  my  poor  fifteen  dollars  the  expenses  of  my  noc 
turnal  ride,  and  would  have  succeeded,  but  I  "  could  not  make  the 

change."  Afterwards  wrote  to  apologise  for  the  omission  of 

supper.  "  Forsan  hsec  olim  meminisse  juvabit,"  says  the  hearty  young 
man ;  but  to  graybeards  and  baldheads  a  little  of  protinus  is  worth  a 
deal  of  olim. 

Monday  last  at  seven,  George  and  I  walked  down  to  the  Lowell 
Depot,  and  at  eight  started  for  Rouse's  Point,  two  hundred  and  eighty- 
seven  miles  off,  sick  and  only  fit  to  lie  on  a  sofa,  and  have  day-dreams 
of  you,  sweet  absent  ones  !  and  think  over  again  the  friendly  endear 
ments  that  are  past,  but  may  yet  return.  A  dreadful  hard  ride  ends 
at  nine  P.M.,  and  I  find  myself  in  the  worst  tavern  (pretending  to  decency) 
in  the  Northern  States.  Bread  which  defies  eating,  crockery  which 
sticks  to  your  hands,  fried  fish  as  cold  as  when  drawn  from  the  lake. 
Rise  at  Lalf-past  four,  breakfast  (?)  at  five,  off  in  the  cars  at  half-past 
five,  lecture  at  Malone  that  night,  lie  all  day  on  the  sofa,  ditto  at  Potsdam 
next  day.  The  third  day,  leave  Potsdam  at  nine,  and  reach  Champlain 
(if  I  get  there)  at  half-past  eight,  spending  ten  and  a  half  hours  in 
travelling  by  railroad  ninety-three  miles  !  Thence,  after  lecture,  to 
House's  Point,  and  at  half-past  five  to-morrow  morning  return  to  the 
cars  which  are  to  take  me  home. 

Next  week,  three  days  in  the  "  East  Counties, '  and  the  next  four 
21 


306  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

days  in  Central  New  York.  That,  I  hope,  ends  the  business,  bating 
nine  or  ten  more  in  April  and  May. 

I  have  been  mending  all  the  time  since  I  left  home,  but  have  not 
taken  up  all  the  stitches  let  down  in  the  last  New  York  expedition. 

What  a  stupid  letter — all  about  myself !     Now  of  better  things. 

You  have  said  nothing  about  the  Schatz-Kammer  at  Dresden.  It  is  one 
of  the  finest  collections  of  jewels  in  the  world,  and  is  worth  more  than 
all  the  railroads  and  school-houses  in  the  kingdom  of  Saxony.  I  should 
take  great  delight  in  studying  it  anew,  with  more  knowledge  of  such 
things  now  than  before. 

Do  look  often  at  the  Christ  in  the  "  Tribute  Money"  by  Titian.  Did 
you  ever  see  such  an  ear  as  the  questioner  has  ?  That  is  a  portrait,  I 
take  it.  Write  me  always  your  impressions  of  all  you  see  and  hear. 

Much  that  you  say  about  the  aspect  of  the  people — gentle  and  sim 
ple — instructs  me  a  good  deal. 

What  a  shame,  dear  Sarah,  you  don't  read  and  speak  German ! 
Commonly,  it  is  the  lone  sister  who  attends  to  literature.  Here  her 
chief  delight  is  in  the  family  baby,  who  "  is  nothing  but  a  boy,"  as  Mr. 
B.  says  of  Bobbie,  and  so  of  no  great  moment.  I  fear  lest  the  perpetual 
stimulus  offered  to  this  Bobschen  (small  Bob)  should  not  be  the  thing 
for  him.  It  is  green  wood  which  needs  continued  puffing  at  with  the 
bellows — not  such  kindling  stuff  as  Willie.  I  wish  he  was  in  some 
good  farmer's  family  for  a  year  or  two,  to  get  bottom — material  basis. 
But  it  can't  be.  What  you  write  about  him  is  full  of  interest  to  us  all. 

****** 
If  Eliza  wants  to  read  a  good  philosophical  book,  she  will  find  it  in 
Kuno  Fischer's  "  Franz  Baco,"  and  when  you  go  to  Heidelberg,  she 
will  see  the  man,  whom  I  know.  She  read  one  of  his  books  at  New 
ton  ;  but  he  does  not-  know  me,  so  I  can  give  you  no  letter.  Oh,  how 
I  do  wish  Bear  and  I  could  step  over  to  Germany  and  pass  the  summer 
with  you !  But  it  can't  be.  I  trust  you  will  be  with  the  Becks  this 
summer,  and  next  year  will  drop  down  into  Italy.  Well,  here  is  the 
end  of  the  second  sheet.  Love  to  Potamousie  ;*  love  to  grandmother 
of  one  grandchild ;  love  to  Lizzie  and  Robert ;  love  to  Sallie — love  and 
something  beside.  Never  fear  that  my  love  for  you  abates,  or  will  or 
can.  Good  bye ! 

THEODORE. 

TO   MRS.    APTHORP. 

Boston,  Monday  Night,  21st  September,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  ELIZA, — There  is  a  new  moon  looking  in  at  my  window, 
or  was  when  I  pulled  the  curtain  down  ;  and  for  you,  I  suppose  it  looks 
down  on  Pisa,  or  Genoa,  or  Florence.  How  grand  the  dark,  heavy 
architecture  of  these  old  narrow-streeted  Italian  towns  looks  in  the  light 
of  the  full  moon  !  I  could  never  tire  of  Rome  or  Florence  by  moon 
light,  and  shall  not  soon  forget  how  Venice  looked  in  the  full  moon,  in 
the  end  of  April,  1844.  The  illumination  of  a  great  festival  came  also 
at  the  same  time,  and  the  canals  swarmed  with  people  in  festal  dresses. 
Balloons  of  light,  parti-coloured  material  hung  on  all  the  steeples, 

*  Pet  name  for  the  Willie. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  307 

whose  bells  spoke  to  the  ear  the  same  rhythm  of  sound  the  lanterns 
intimated  to  the  eye.  I  was  in  Trent  once  at  midnight,  and  saw  the 
Great  Bear  hang  over  the  Cathedral,  where  a  famous  council  once  sat 
so  long  and  with  such  world-wide  significance.  Once,  too,  at  full  moon, 
I  went  to  the  Colosseum,  and  stayed  till  midnight,  and  heard  the  owl 
hoot  over  the  ruins  of  that  terrible  amphitheatre  of  blood,  where, 
oftener  than  once,  80,000  men  and  women  were  brought  together  to  see 
gladiators  butcher  one  another.  Once,  too,  the  last  night  I  was  in 
Rome,  I  went  at  full  moon  to  see  the  arches  of  the  aqueduct  which  used 
to  water  a  city  of  1,500,000  men — the  London  of  the  old  fighting 
world,  as  London  is  the  Rome  of  the  modern  industrial  world ;  now  it 
is  a  huge  ruin,  full  of  beauty  to  all  lookers  on ;  also  full  of  wisdom  to 
whoso  stops  to  think  of  the  Whence  and  Whither  of  mighty  states. 

What  a  dear  child  you  are  to  take  all  that  pains  (for  me,  too)  to  hunt 
up  an  old  book  !  These,  I  take  it,  are  the  facts. 

It  is  Ramusio  that  occupies  the  corner  I  spoke  of;  in  1844  I  had 
been  up  to  the  rooms  above  the  library,  and  thinking  of  Sebastian 
Cabot,  looked  at  books  of  voyages  (I  have  a  weakness  for  folios),  and 
opened  that,  and  found  at  the  head  of  the  page,  or  the  chapter,  the 
"  Navigazioni  di  Sebastiani  Gabotti."  Before  I  could  make  further 
explorations,  my  companions  hurried  me  off  to  some  other  place,  so  I 
put  up  the  book,  and  "  cast  one  longing  lingering  look  behind,"  and 
saw  "  Viaggi  "  on  the  back,  and  supposed  it  was  "  Viaggi  di  Giovanni 
ed  Sebastiani  Gabotti,"  or  something  like  that ;  the  book  has  haunted 
me  ever  since.  I  have  looked  in  all  libraries  for  it,  in  bibliographies, 
asked  men  well-read  in  such  things,  but  found  no  satisfaction.  Now  it 
is  all  cleared  up.  Keep  the  book  given  to  you,  unless  you  find  an 
opportunity  to  send  it  home  by  private  hand.  I  have  ordered  all  the 
Italian  books  you  mention — the  new  edition  of  "  Marco  Polo  "  I  had 
ordered  before  in  vain.  But  my  friend,  Mr.  Christern,  a  German  book 
seller,  was  here  last  night,  and  I  sent  again  direct  to  Venice,  where  he 
has  a  friend ;  they  will  go  via  Leipsic,  and  before  the  first  of  January, 
I  shall  have  them  in  handsome  parchment  on  this  desk,  perhaps. 
Sorry  to  put  you  to  so  much  trouble ;  but  I  think  it  paid  for  itself  by 
making  you  acquainted  with  persons  you  would  not  else  have  met. 

Many  thanks  for  it  all,  and  the  forty-seven  grapes  which  commemo 
rated  the  years  that  have  made  me  glatz-kopfig  (smooth-headed).  It  was 
glass  kopfig — at  least  /  read  it  so — in  my  copy,  and  boggled  over  it  a 
long  time,  and  looked  in  dictionaries,  and  wondered  and  wondered,  but 
was  so  stupid  as  not  to  think  of  glatz-kopfig.  It  is  a  queer  piece,  with 
a  deal  of  truth  in  its  Verfehlte  Liebe  verfehltes  Leben.* 

But  it  is  not  the  deepest  truth.  No — no— no !  Whoso  does  his  pos 
sible  best,  never  fails  in  Leben,  but  straight  out  of  the  deeps  of  misery 
and  worldly  ruin  rises  in  his  proper  motion  up  to  heaven.  Even  to  the 
wickedest  I  think  life  is  no  absolute  failure.  But  it  is  an  experiment 
he  could  not  do  without ;  one  in  which  he  learns  what  else  he  had 
missed.  Heine  has  a  deal  of  the  Devil  in  him,  mixed  with  a  deal  of 
genius.  Nobody  could  write  so  well  as  he — surely  none  since  Gothe ; 
that  Hebrew  nature  has  a  world  of  sensuous  and  devotional  emotion  in 
it,  and  immense  power  of  language  also.  But  this  genius  is  lyric,  not 

•  Love  that  fails  in  life  a  failure  :  the  allusion  is  to  a  piece  written  by  Henry  Heine. 


308  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

dramatic,  not  epic;  no  Muse  rises  so  high  as  the  Hebrew,  but  it  can 
not  keep  long  on  the  wing.  The  Psalms  and  Prophets  of  the  Old 
Testament  teach  us  this  ;  Oriental  sensuousness  attained  their  finest 
expression  in  the  Song  of  Solomon,  and  in  Heine's  Lieder.  In  the 
latter  the  idol  is  veiled  in  thin  gauze ;  in  the  former  it  is  without  the 
veil.  Much  in  Heine  I  hate — much,  likewise,  I  admire  and  love.  The 
"  Romanzero"*  I  never  like  enough  to  read.  Heine  was  malignant  and 
blasphemous. 

I  don't  want  you  to  take  less  pains  than  you  do  with  anything,  only 
don't  get  the  nettle-rash  and  the  neuralgia,  that  is  a  dear  child.  The 
old  churches,  with  their  cold  stone  floors,  which  no  sun  ever  sweeps 
with  his  light,  the  damp,  chill  air  never  renewed  by  a  fresh  breeze  from 
an  open  window,  are  dangerous  to  American  women,  with  soles  of  letter- 
paper  on  their  tiny  feet,  and  oyster-shell  bonnets  behind  the  organ  of 
self-esteem  on  their  heads.  Let  you  and  S.  beware.  Your  mother  has 
the  prudence  which  needs  no  caution.  I  would  see  all  that  is  worth 
seeing,  and  see  it  thoroughly  too,  and  understand  it  also.  Of  course 
you  will  learn  Italian,  and  I  shall  hear  your  "  speech  ringing  like  silver 
coin  falling  on  marble,"  as  you  so  poetically  describe  that  at  Venice. 
But  Venetian  is  sweeter  than  any  other  Italian.  Florentine  has  more 
majesty,  but  less  tenderness  and  grace.  The  Americans  pronounce 
the  vowels  better  than  the  English,  marking  all  the  delicate  variations 
of  their  softer  sounds,  while  the  British  dwell  more  on  the  consonants, 
the  hard  peaks  of  the  language.  The  Briton  says,  "  The  clim-met's 
rrigrus  ;  "  the  American,  "  The  climate  is  rigorous."  The  Venetians 
drop  the  consonants,  and  make  a  language  almost  wholly  of  vowels — 
thus :  "  Bo  gioro,  Sioe"  for  "  Buon  giorno,  Signore"  There  is  a  little 
hardness  in  the  Tuscan  consonatization  (to  make  a  word),  but  there  is 
dignity  and  strength.  It  is  the  language  of  man.  But,  after  all,  I  like 
the  old  Latin,  so  direct,  masculine,  and  concise  in  its  strength,  better 
than  even  the  "  Lingua  Toscana  in  locca  Romana."  For  one  who  knows 
Latin  and  French,  it  is  easy  to  know  enough  Italian  to  read  and  talk 
it  with  plainness ;  but  it  requires  a  deal  of  toil  and  time  to  master  its 
subtle  beauties.  It  is  the  most  circumlocutory  of  all  modern  tongues  : 
the  language  of  subtlety  and  finesse. 

I  long  to  know  what  you  and  S.  will  think  of  the  people.  I  found 
them  the  handsomest  of  men  :  I  never  saw  such  fine  heads,  faces, 
mouths,  hands,  and  feet,  as  in  Central  Italy.  A  good  assortment  of 
nationalities  was  mixed  together  centuries  ago,  and  now  the  elements, 
once  conflicting  and  making  homely — as  at  this  day  in  New  England 
— are  blended  into  one  homogeneous  mass,  which  combines  various 
qualities  not  known  before.  In  Northern  Italy  you  find  German  faces, 
German  eyes,  hair,  hands,  and  feet ;  this  is  partly  due  to  the  old  Lom 
bard  stock,  partly  to  the  "  damnate  Tedeschi " — the  Austrian  soldiers  of 
to-day ;  for  the  military  river  leaves  the  stain  of  its  waters  on  every 
bank.  Doubtless,  your  and  S.'s  sharp  eyes  detected  the  German  face 
in  many  a  Hebrew  mother's  baby  at  Prague,  and  found  black  eyes 

*  A  book  of  poems  in  the  form  of  ballads,  but  not  so  simple  in  idea  and  sentiment. 
It  contains  also  a  prose  postscript,  half  mocking,  half  serious,  in  which  Heine  proclaims 
his  conversion  to  a  belief  in  a  personal  deity  and  personal  immortality.  His  sentiments 
hardly  succeed  iu  escaping  from  his  prevailing  irony  and  persiflage. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  309 

common  in  Catholic  villages  of  Saxony  or  Bavaria,  and  wondered  till 
you  saw  the  Italian  priest.  In  South  Italy  you  find  much  of  the  old 
Greek  beauty  in  the  people.  At  Rome,  look  at  the  Trasteverini,  and 
you  will  be  surprised  at  the  odds  between  them  and  the  other  Romans. 

I  have  been  prosing  away  here  as  if  I  were  preaching ;  I  think  you 
are  right  in  your  desire  to  pay  in  thought  for  the  delight  you  get  in 
travel.  It  is  a  great  bounty  that  is  given  you.  I  felt  how  much  I  was 
adding  to  the  debt  I  owed  mankind,  and  did  not  often  lay  my  head  on 
the  pillow  without  counting  the  cost  to  the  human  race  of  my  enjoy 
ment  on  that  day  when  I  had  received  only,  but  given  out  nothing  iii 
return.  Now,  I  could  learn  twice  as  much  as  then,  as  carrying  a  head 
"  steadier  on  its  shoulders,"  as  you  say.  Alas,  me !  my  head  was 
always  steady  enough ;  I  wish  I  had  oth'er  qualities  in  proportion  to 
sobriety. 

Of  course,  you  won't  read  much  in  Italy ;  but  you  will  go  to  the 
theatre,  and  learn  the  language  with  such  help  as  you  can  get.  We 
went  to  the  theatre  at  Florence,  but  only  once. 

What  exquisite  culture  of  the  ground  you  find  in  Italy,  but  what  a 
Church — what  monks,  arid  preti,  and  cardinali — what  a  Pape  I  I  always 
like  to  call  the  old  fellow  by  the  French  or  the  German  name,  Pape, 
or  Papst.  Rome  is  a  Commentary  on  Revelations.  I  fear  you  missed 
the  Papal  visit  to  Florence  ;  the  old  fellow  will  go  back  to  his  humble 
shed  of  the  Vatican,  "  nostro  humile  tapino  Vaticano,"  with  a  million 
dollars  in  presents.  In  reading  the  correspondence  of  Mabillon,  I  was 
struck  with  the  fact  that,  while  the  great  ecclesiastics  do  not  appear  to 
have  any  brothers  or  sisters,  they  are  blest  with  many  nephews  who 
required  places  in  the  Holy  alone-saving  Church  of  Rome. 

Tell  me  if  you  hear  of  any  literature  that  is  new  or  worth  notice. 
Florence  is  the  head-quarters  of  Italian  letters,  now.  I  think  no 
country  has  such  a  reserved  power  of  educated  gentlemen,  fond  of 
literature,  art,  science,  who  never  print  anything  ;*  many  works  are 
written  in  the  country-houses  of  these  persons  which  never  see  the 
light.  How  is  it  possible  for  a  Government  to  curse  a  people !  You 
saw  something  of  that  in  Germany ;  more  is  before  you.  Tell  me 
what  you  think  of  man's  relation  to  the  animals  in  Italy.  Tell  little 
Potamousie  how  much  I  thank  him  for  his  letter  in  German,  every 
word  correct.  "  He  is  a  precious,"  as  his  auntie  says,  and  I  think  you 
had  better  send  him  home  to  me ;  he  is  only  a  bother  hi  travelling. 

T. 


TO  MISS  HUNT. 

Boston,  Saturday  Night,  Oct.  31,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MITE  o'  SARAH,  AWAY  OFF  AT  FLORENCE, — It  is 
All  Saint's  Eve  to-night,  and  my  sermon  has  been  long  since  ended, 
the  last  word  added  at  the  end,  and  I  have  had  a  little  time  to  gather 
up  my  soul  for  the  coming  Sunday.  I  don't  like  to  rush  from  a  week 
of  hard  work  into  the  prayers  and  the  hymns  of  the  Sunday  without  a 
little  breathing  time  of  devotion,  so  I  walk  about  the  study,  and  hum 
over  bits  of  hymns,  or  recall  various  little  tender  emotions,  and  feel  the 


310  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

beating  of  that  great  Heart  of  the  Universe  which  warms  us  all  with 
the  life  that  never  dies.  I  don't  know  that  these  are  not  the  richest 
hours  of  my  life ;  certainly,  they  have  always  been  the  happiest. 

At  Roxbury  I  had  a  better  time  for  this— more  uninterrupted  oppor 
tunity,  I  mean.  Nature  is  a  continuous  oratory,  and  the  pine-trees 
near,  or  then  not  far  off,  always  came  to  me  with  their  sweet  voice  full 
of  religious  emotion.  They  did  not  feel  it ;  I  did,  for  man  is  the  con 
sciousness  of  nature.  In  him  its  facts  are  ideas,  its  deeds  and  habits  are 
laws,  and  its  sounds  become  the  music  of  a  prayer.  Here,  in  the  city, 
one  must  fall  back  on  his  own  soul,  or,  as  most  men,  on  some  social 
help  of  companionship.  Mankind  makes  a  world  of  art  in  the  city  to 
take  the  place  of  absent  nature.  Hence,  there  are  Milan  cathedrals,  and 
Duomos  of  Florence,  and  St.  Stephen's  of  Vienna.  In  the  Tyrol,  or 
even  the  White  Mountains,  you  need  no  such  things.  When  our 
friend's  face  is  before  us,  as  a  grace  before  and  after  meat,  we  need  no 
picture,  but  when  he  is  afar  off,  we  look  on  his  daguerreotype  as  a  bene 
diction  to  our  daily  bread.  Hence,  the  world  of  religious  art,  which 
is  only  a  toy  in  the  fields,  a  gilt  bauble  compared  to  the  clover,  and  the 
blue-eyed  grass,  and  the  dandelion,  in  the  town  becomes  quite  friendly 
and  dear  to  us. 

###### 
Well :  it  is  All  Saints'  Day  to-morrow,  and  as  it  is  the  three-hundred- 
and-fortieth  anniversary  of  the  public  beginning  of  the  Protestant 
Reformation,  I  shall  preach  of  the  Catholic  and  Protestant  Churches, 
the  chief  theological  ideas  in  which  they  differ.  Last  Sunday  I  spoke 
of  the  power  of  false  theological  ideas  to  hinder  the  welfare  and  the 
progress  of  the  individual  and  the  race.  Next  Sunday  I  mean  to  say 
something  of  the  power  of  true  theological  ideas  to  develope  man's 
possibilities  of  good.  I  shall  speak  historically  of  what  has  been  done 
by  the  best  ideas  of  the  Catholic  and  Protestant  Churches,  and  pro 
phetically  of  what  will  be  the  future  of  some  great  truths  I  now  try  to 
set  forth. 

I  take  great  delight  in  writing,  great  also  in  preaching,  sermons  on 
such  high  themes.  The  audience  seems  pleased  and  looks  interested. 
It  is  a  grand  audience  to  preach  to,  and  it  inspires  me  only  to  look 
upon  the  faces  of  two  or  three  thousand  persons  so  met  together. 

But  my  eyes  grow  a  little  dim,  dear  Sarah,  and  I  see  blue  suns 
flitting  about  the  paper,  and  then  green  ones ;  so,  for  this  moment, 
good  night,  with  a  little  mite  of  a  kiss  to  lay  under  your  pillow. 

Sunday  is  gone.  Monday  has  folded  her  wings,  also,  and  now  night 
broods  over  the  tired  city,  and  the  children  of  toil  are  beginning  to 
cuddle  themselves  down  under  that  warm,  motherly  influence,  and 
sleep  off  all  their  cares,  at  least,  for  a  few  hours.  What  a  strange 
thing  sleep  is  !  I  think  I  don't  quite  understand  it,  spite  of  some  con 
siderable  experience ;  but  I  won't  inflict  a  philosopheme  upon  you. 

We  got  your  letters  of  October  5th,  and  I  have  mailed  six  to  Florence. 
Some  of  them  were  directed  "  Al  Illustrissime  Signore  Robert  E. 
Apthorp."  Perhaps  the  modest  man  did  not  inquire  for  the  letters  of 
so  distinguished  a  person.  Henceforth  the  letters  shall  be  to  "  R.  E. 
Apthorp,  Esq."  I  think  they  will  all  come  to  hand. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  311 

What  a  good  soul  you  are  to  hunt  up  the  book  of  "  Populari  Tos- 
cani!"  It  will  have  a  manifold  value— not  only  its  intrinsic,  as  a  book 
not  known  before,  but  its  extrinsic,  as  the  gift  of  good,  kind  Sallie. 
The  bigger  work  you  mention  I  also  took  a  note  of.  It  is  too  bulky 
for  your  trunks,  and,  besides,  would  have  to  pay  duties,  here  and  there 
and  everywhere,  and  be  a  world  of  trouble.  Moreover,  now  I  know  the 
title,  I  can  make  a  long  arm,  and  reach  down  to  Venice  or  Florence, 
and  pick  it  up  some  day. 

Please  find  the  title  of  such  books  as  Conti  populari,  not  so  much  the 
conti  villereschi,  or  fantastichi,  but  rather  such  as  come  out  of  the  mouth 
of  the  people  in  their  serious  moods. 

But  I  doubt  that  the  Italians  have  much  of  this  literature  in  which 
the  Germans  are  so  exceeding  rich.  With  the  Germans,  imagination 
is  diffused  among  all  the  people,  just  as  the  inventive,  organizing,  and 
administrative  talent,  which  we  call  thrift,  is  among  New  Englanders. 
I  doubt  that  it  is  so  with  the  Italians  ;  they  have  been  a  cultivated  people 
too  long,  and  when  the  ground  has  been  ploughed,  and  harrowed,  and 
raked  over  so  many  times,  no  sweet  little  violets  and  wind-flowers  come 
up  of  their  own  accord,  but  marigolds,  pinks,  and  passion-flowers  grow 
in  the  artificial  garden-beds,  offensively  enriched ;  while  in  the  lands 
where  the  seed  of  art  is  sown,  the  ground  spawns  forth  its  litter  of 
weeds,  ugly  and  poisonous,  too. 

You  kindly  ask  for  commissions — something  to  do.  Well,  this  in 
general,  dear  Sarah  :  drink  in  just  as  much  health  and  happiness  as  you 
can  all  the  time,  and  let  it  come  out  in  your  soul  when  you  return ; 

that  is  the  general  commission But  there  is  one  thing 

more  :  I  should  like  to  be  made  a  cardinal,  and  have  a  red  hat,  and  a 
red  cloak,  and  a  red  coach,  with  six  horses,  and  five  great  servants  to 
wait  on  me  to  the  Music  Hall.  Now,  couldn't  you  wheedle  his  Holiness 
into  making  me  a  cardinal  ?  You  know  how  to  get  round  the  Pope. 
Tell  him  what  a  dear  little  Pope  he  is,  and  that  I  will  be  the  best  car 
dinal  that  ever  was  in  all  Boston,  from  the  North  End  to  the  Neck. 
Then  I  should  so  like  to  go  into  the  anti-slavery  meeting  in  the  Melo- 
deon  next  January,  and  sit  on  the  platform  between  Henry  C.  Wright 
and  Eliza  J.  K.,  with  my  red  clothes  on.  Why,  I  should  overawe  Abby 
Folsom.  Then  it  would  be  so  delightful  to  read  the  paragraphs  in  the 
Liberator,  and  the  Standard,  and  the  Boston  Post,  and  to  have  all  the 
boys  and  girls  in  "  South  Sthrate  "  running  after  me ;  and  to  see  the 
whole  "  County  Corrrkkk"  take  off  his  hat  to  my  red  one  !  Now,  do 
tell  the  Pope  how  I  should  like  it,  and,  if  he  will  give  it  to  me,  he  will  be 
a  dear  little  love  of  a  Pope,  and  I  will  not  call  him  the  naughty  names 
which  (the  Protestant  Christians  say)  the  Bible  has  got  ready  for  him. 

I  saw  old  Josiah  Quincy  in  the  street  to-day.  He  has  a  backbone 
which,  old  as  he  is,  sticks  out  through  his  great-coat. 

I  am  applying  electricity  to  my  side,  and,  after  thundering  so  long 
against  various  enormities,  I  now  strike  my  own  sides  with  lightning 
It  does  me  good,  and  I  am  mending  like  a  family  seamstress. 

I  sent  one  fringed  gentian  to  you  long  ago.  Here  is  another,  the  last 
of  the  season ;  it  was  on  the  pulpit  Sunday. 

So  I  shall  expect  my  cardinal's  hat  by  the  very  next  steamer  after 
you  receive  this  letter. 


312  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 


FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

March  3,  1851. — Seven  years  ago  to-day  I  plucked  violets  in  Rome, 
and  some  of  them  are  still  in  being  to-day  with  me.  Some  others  are 
with  the  one  for  whom  they  were  plucked. 

What  an  eventful  seven  years  it  has  been  !  How  little  could  I,  or 
any  one,  foresee  the  course  of  the  next  seven  years,  nor  how  little 
that  of  the  forthcoming  year,  if  indeed  it  be  forthcoming !  But  the 
good  God  rules  all. 

How  much  of  our  life  depends  on  accident,  as  it  seems — Providence, 
as  it  is  !  How  much  of  my  life  has  been  shaped  and  ennobled  by  one 
or  two  persons  that  I  have  known  !  The  knowing  them  was  not  of  my 
will,  but  it  has  changed  me  much,  for  good  and  ill.  Men  would  not  see 
it ;  God  knows  it  all.  So  the  difference  between  character  and  reputa 
tion — what  men  think  you,  what  God  sees  you  !  Here  is  a  man  who  bears 
a  scarlet  letter  in  his  heart,  that  burns  and  scorches  all  the  day.  Here 
another  who  bears  a  crown  of  glory  round  his  brow  within.  No  man 
sees  it,  or  either ;  but  God  both. 

March  22. — It  is  now  just  20  years  since  I  packed  up  my  trunk  at 
Lexington  to  leave  my  father's  house  forever.  It  was  never  my  home 
after  that.  Half  of  my  life  has  now  passed,  at  home  20  years,  and  20 
years  away  from  home.  All  of  it  has  been  a  struggle,  all  that  I  have 
sought  for  has  been  sought  under  difficulties. 

23rd,  Sunday. — Yet  it  seems  to  me  that  if  I  live  20  years  more  I 
may  do  something.  As  yet  I  have  done  nothing  to  justify  the  hopes 
my  mother  formed  of  me,  or  I  of  myself.  I  might  as  well  have  stayed 
at  home,  and  minded  the  farm,  and  been  one  of  the  select  men  of  Lex 
ington,  surveyor  of  the  highways  for  one-twentieth  part  of  the  town, 
now  and  then.  What  fools  we  are  to  think  so  much  of  the  slate  and 
pencil  we  cypher  with,  and  so  little  of  the  sum  we  are  to  cyphei  out. 
I  might  have  had  just  as  much  to  carry  to  heaven  from  the  farm  as 
from  the  different  field  I  have  chosen. 

Much  weary  with  the  services  to-day ;  for  I  have  been  ill  many  days, 
not  so  much  from  any  bodily  cause  as  from  one  more  difficult  to  cure  or 
to  come  at.  Ah,  me !  my  life  is  a  pursuit  of  its  object  under  difficulties. 

Took  tea  with  Howe,  and  retired  much  wearied,  and  sad,  arid  sick. 

There  are  those  who  are  a  continual  joy  and  delight  to  us.  I  know 
one  whose  presence  is  to  me  continual  sunshine. 

Te  spectem,  suprema  mihi  cum  venerit  hora  : 
Te  teneam  moriens,  deficiente  manu. 

Kind  Gussie  Curtis  has  just  sent  me  some  fringed  gentians,  the  first 
of  the  year  that  I  have  seen.  They  have  always  been  consecrated  with 
me,  and  the  dearest  flowers  that  I  know,  save  two  or  three.  But  now 
they  will  not  perform  their  usual  service.  I  shall  carry  some  to  a  sick 
girl. 

Feb.  1, 1851,  Saturday  Night. — All  the  household  are  now  a-bed,  and 
most  are  asleep,  for  it  is  near  midnight.  I  love  to  compose  my  soul  a 
little  before  I  go  to  rest,  and  especially  at  the  end  of  the  week  look  back 
a  little  on  it.  This  has  not  been  a  happy  or  a  successful  week ;  the 


THEODORE    PARKER. 


313 


fault  is  my  own,  which  makes  it  all  the  worse  to  bear.  How  little  do 
men  who  look  on  our  faces  know  what  they  cover !  The  good  God 
knows  all.  I  have  no  fear  of  Thee,  great  Father,  for  Thou  art  infinite. 
But  Thy  children— I  fear  their  erring  eyes.  I  can  trust  the  justice  of 
my  God,  not  that  of  men. 

May,  1851. — At  West  Roxbury  in  the  afternoon.  The  Polygalla 
pauciflora  just  opening;  laid  some  at  the  foot  of  my  favourite  tree  in 
memory  of  old  times— the  great  oak. 


THE    WHITE    OAK. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Familiar  Letters,  to  Hon.  Charles  Sumner,  Rev.  S.  J.  May,  E.  Desor,  Peter  Lesley, 
Professor  H.  D.  Rogers,  to  his  Niece,  and  others. 

THESE  letters,  of  a  lighter  and  less  formal  kind  than  those  in 
which  Mr.  Parker  deliberately  weighed  his  favourite  subjects, 
follow  here  more  naturally.  They  are,  however,  veined  with  all 
his  qualities  of  sense  and  conscience.  The  pen  is  still  chartered 
to  transmit  them.  Such  letters  of  mixed  play  and  earnest  show 
a  very  characteristic  mood  of  his,  better  than  a  mere  description. 
To  begin  with  some  specimens  of  his  impromptu  notes. 
A  young  clergyman  writes  to  him  complaining  of  the  number  of 
Sundays,  especially  of  the  months  which  contain  five,  which  he 
considered  an  imposition.  To  this  Mr.  Parker  replies : — 

There  is  no  peace  for  the  wicked.  There  is  only  one  place  where 
there  is  no  Sunday  In  this  world,  on  earth,  it  is  a  weekly  visitation. 
Heaven  is  a  continual  Sabbath.  So  you  see  the  lot  of  the  ministers 
who  follow  their  calling  thither.  Only  in  one  place  is  there  no  Sunday. 
I  do  not  like  to  name  it :  they  say,  a  great  many  Unitarian  divines  have 
gone  thither.  There  is  no  Sunday,  but — a  continual  Monday,  a  perpe 
tual  Black  Monday,  a  great  washing-day  of  souls  that  will  not  come 
clean,  scrub  you  never  so  tightly  ! 

"Will  you  stay  on  the  earth,  there  is  the  Sunday.  "Will  you  go  to 
heaven,  the  inexorable  Sunday  is  still  there,  and  of  course,  "  nulla 

Dominica  sine  sermone."  If  you  go  to alas,  me  !  I  dare  not  hurt  your 

feelings  with  the  name,  you  have  not  a  preach-day,  but  a  wash-day. 
You  are  not  the  washer  but  the  washee.  Here  you  are  not  the  preachee. 
Comfort  yourself  with  that.  The  agony  of  writing  sermons  is  doubt 
less  great,  but  oh,  think  of  the  tenfold  agony  of  hearing  the  sermons,  of 
sitting  puncto  singulo,  in  the  worst  of  situations,  to  listen,  "  seized  and 

tied  down,"  not  to  judge,  but  only  hear.  Rejoice,  0 !  in  the  strength 

of  your  cloth,  but  know  that  not  yet  are  you  a  hearer  of  sermons. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  31 5 

A  contributor  to  the  Massachusetts  "  Quarterly,"  had  promised 
an  article  upon  Coleridge,  which  never  got  written.  His  delays 
are  thus  vigorously  followed  up  : — 

No.  1.  MOST  EXCELLENT .     It  is  known  to  thee  that  thee  is  to 

write  for  us  a  paper  OD  one  Samuel  Coleridge,  and  this  is  to  tell  thee 
that  we  expect  that  paper  from  thy  pen  about  the  first  of  July. 

No.  2.  Thee  will  not  forget  thy  article  on  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge, 
which  is  to  be  in  readiness  by  the  tenth  of  seventh  month.  Thy  friends 
will  look  for  it  with  large  eyes. 

No.  3.  Oh,  promising ,  hast  thou  seen  the  new  little  book  of 

thy  friend  Coleridge  ?  He  also  was  a  promising  man,  and  has  come 
upon  his  resolutions  before  this  time,  unless  John  Calvin  lies — which 
may  he ! 

No.  4  was  written  just  after  the  procrastinating  critic  was 
burnt  out  of  his  dwelling. 

That's  the  way  they  treat  the  wicked — burn  'em  up— burn  'em  up  ! 
Books  and  all,  babies  and  all,  wife  and  all !  O  Lot,  that  hast  fled 
out  of  thy  Sodom  and  Gromorrah  ;  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  and  hope  there 
is  no  smell  of  fire  on  thy  wife  and  the  babies !  I  sympathize  heartily 
with  you,  and  if  you  lost  your  books,  will  give  you  some  of  mine ; 
especially  Coleridge.  Did  you  keep  your  sermons  dry — as  Caesar  his 
Commentaries  ? 

He  exchanges  with  a  young  friend. 

I  will  come  and  lecture  you  out  of  the  year,  if  you  will.  The  sub 
ject  shall  be  what  you  choose.  The  Progress  of  Mankind.  I  will  take 
tea,  and  if  it  storms,  pass,  perhaps,  the  night.  Somebody  said  it  was 
cruel  of  me  to  let  you  exchange  with  me  the  other  day,  because  it 
would  get  you  into  hot  water !  If  so,  I  hope  you  will  get  out — or  the 
water  get  cool  before  spring. 

Not  long  after  John  Ronge  in  Germany  had  exposed  the  fraud 
of  the  Holy  Coat  at  Treves,  and  had  organized  a  free  German 
Catholic  Communion,  a  similar  movement  was  commenced  among 
the  Protestants  by  Julius  Hupp,  of  Magdeburg,  who  wanted  free 
parishes  and  no  political  church  of  one  recognized  confession. 
His  first  offence  was  a  letter  to  the  Consistory,  in  1844,  oppos 
ing  the  preamble  of  the  Athanasian  Creed,  which  pronounces 
damnation  on  all  who  differ  from  its  articles.  He  attacked  in 
sermons  the  dogmatism  of  the  Church,  and  denied  several  points 
of  doctrine  that  are  deemed  essential.  Whereupon,  the  Konigs- 
berg  Consistory  excommunicated  him,  and  he  thereby  lost  his 
privilege  of  membership  of  the  great  Protestant  Association  oi 
Germany  called  the  Gustavus-Adolphus  Union.  A  furious  war 
of  pamphlets  and  sermons  broke  out,  and  the  Pietists  demanded 


316  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

the  intervention  of  Government.  Mr.  Parker  thus  tells  the 
story  of  Kuppism  to  a  friend  with  whom  his  pen  was  never  very 
staid. 

Eupp  was  a  member  of  the  Boston  Association  of  Ministers  in  Gfer- 
many  (they  call  it  the  Gustav-Adolph.  Verein)  ;  he  had  some  notions 
that  were  called  heretical — e.  g.  he  thought  a  man  had  a  right  to  do  his 
own  thinking,  and  in  case  he  wanted  help,  might  hire  a  hand  on  his 
own  account.  Then  he  said,  in  thinking,  a  man  must  rest  only  in  the 
truth.  Now  said  the  Boston  Association,  "  Brother  Eupp,  it  hurts  our 
feelings  to  hear  you  talk  so — 'taint  Christian.  It  is  heathen — it  is 

infidel."  So ,  whose  German  name  is  Hengstenberg,  and ,  who 

is  called  Guerike,  when  he  lives  at  Halle,  both  of  them  nice  men  at 
hunting  heretics  and  disembowelling  them  when  found,  they  stirred  up 
the  said  Boston  Association,  and  got  them  to  expel  brother  Eupp.  Still 
more,  they  asked  the  Government  to  kick  Eupp  out  of  his  pulpit  off 
there  in  Magdeburg.  But  says  Eupp,  says  he,  "  I  won't  go,  nor  stir 
one  step  out  of  my  pulpit."  So  he  stayed  there  :  and  the  King  says  to 
Eupp,  says  he,  "  What  do  you  want  ?  "  Rupp  :  "  To  do  just  as  I'm  a 
mind  to."  "Well,"  says  the  King,  "  go  ahead."  So  Eupp  goes  ahead  ; 
his  church  is  a  Landeskirche,  and  not  a  mere  Privat-Gemeinde*  and  so 
Eupp  may  come  into  the  Verein  if  he  will,  and  much  good  may  it  do 
him  when  there ! 

TO    HON.    CHARLES    SUMNER. 

September,  1846. — I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  your  noble  and 
beautiful  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Address.  It  did  me  good  to  read  it.  I  like 
it,  like  it  all — all  over  and  all  through.  I  like  especially  what  you  say 
of  Allston  and  Channing.  That  sounds  like  the  Christianity  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  the  application  of  religion  to  life.  You  have  said 
a  strong  word,  and  a  beautiful ;  planted  a  seed  "  out  of  which  many  and 
tall  branches  shall  arise,"  I  hope.  The  people  are  always  true  to  a  good 
man  who  truly  trusts  them.  You  have  haid  opportunity  to  see,  hear,  and 
feel  the  truth  of  that  oftener  than  once.  1  think  you  will  have  enough 
more  opportunities  yet :  men  will  look  for  deeds  noble  as  the  words 
a  man  speaks.  I  take  these  words  as  an  earnest  of  a  life  full  of  deeds 
of  that  heroic  sort. 

You  refer  to  a  passage  in  the  Greek  Epigrams  about  the  picture  of 
Philoctetes.  By  whom  is  the  line  ?  *  I  remember  it,  but  cannot  turn 
to  it,  and  as  you  don't  name  the  author,  and  my  Anthology,  though  it 
has  eleven  volumes,  has  no  index  verborum,  I  don't  find  it. 

Many  little  notes  passed  between  Mr.  Parker  and  Mr. 
Sumner,  upon  the  subject  of  books  upon  law  and  jurisprudence, 
for  these  things  were  an  important  element  in  Mr.  Parker's 
studies.  He  wanted,  principally,  the  sources  of  knowledge  in 

*  One  is  a  State  parish,  recognized  by  Government ;  the  other  is  a  conventicle,  only 
tolerated. 

f  From  an  epigram  of  six  lines,  attributed  to  Glaucus,  an  Athenian  poet. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  317 

this  province,  all  codices,  and  books  of  historical  investigation 
of  the  subject,  State  trials,  and  the  journals  in  various  lan 
guages  devoted  to  jurisprudence,  and  the  report  of  cases.  He 
began  these  investigations  while  keeping  school  at  Watertown, 
and  never  allowed  them  to  subside.  When  he  came  to  framing 
his  "  Defence/'  his  knowledge  of  State  trials,  of  the  jury,  &c., 
saved  him  uncounted  time  and  labour.  How  thoroughly  trained 
he  was  for  all  the  exigencies  of  his  career ! 

TO   HON.    CHARLES   SUMNER. 

Sept.  20,  1852. 

MY  DEAE  STTMNEB, — Some  day  or  other  I  shall  publish — if  I  live, 
and  nothing  hinders — a  book  on  the  progressive  development  of 
religion  in  the  leading  (Caucasian)  races'  of  mankind.  Amongst 
other  topics,  treated  in  one  of  the  later  volumes,  will  be  the  develop 
ment  of  religion  in  its  politico-ethical  form,  that  is,  the  form  of  law. 
Now,  I  can  ascertain  the  points  I  need,  in  the  historical  development 
of  law,  among  the  classic  nations,  Greeks  and  Romans,  with  their 
descendants,  Italians,  French,  Spanish,  &c.,  the  Slavic  nations,  and 
most  of  the  Teutonic,  viz.,  in  all  the  semi-barbarous  tribes  of  that 
family,  and  of  most  of  them  in  their  present  condition.  I  am  in  the 
way  of  ascertaining  all  I  wish  of  the  Scandinavians,  but  I  lack  the 
requisite  information  on  the  development  of  law  in  England.  I  make 
it  out  very  well  up  to  the  time  of  the  Conqueror.  After  that  I  want  a 
little  help  from  you.  I  wish  to  understand  the  complete  history  of  the 
whole  matter,  so  I  beg  you  to  give  me  a  list  of  authors  to  be  studied. 
You  may  go  on  the  supposition  that  I  know  nothing  of  the  matter,  as 
the  Professor  was  to  do  with  M.  Jourdain ;  and  if  you  set  down  works 
that  I  knew  well  twenty  years  ago,  no  matter.  "  Surplusage  does  not 
vitiate  "  in  the  matter  of  counsel. 

March  21,  1846. — I  thank  you  for  the  kindly  note  you  wrote  me  the 
other  day,  and  which  I  would  have  answered  before  now,  but  have  been 
so  ill  that  I  only  have  done  what  was  unavoidable.  I  do  not  think  the 
sermon  *  you  spoke  of  worthy  of  much  praise,  but  yet  I  have  heard  so 
much  commendation  of  it,  that  I  am  -inclined  to  alter  my  opinion.  I 
sympathize  most  heartily  with  what  you  say  about  the  Nebelwind.  f  I 
know  well  how  unerquicklich  it  is,  and  among  what  diirren  Blatter  it 
sduselt. 

There  are  few  of  the  clergy  that  I  respect  or  esteem.  Few  of  them 
are  intellectually  competent  to  their  task,  fewer  still  morally  capable  of 
doing  any  good  thing  for  mankind.  Among  the  more  respectable  por 
tion  of  society,  religion — using  that  word  in  its  widest  and  best  sense 
— is  not  the  leading  influence.  Of  course,  therefore,  religion  is  a 

*  The  True  Idea  of  a  Christian  Church. 

1*  Faust :  Scene  I.     The  ordinary  preached  words 

"  Sind  unerquicklich  wie  der  Nebelwind, 
Der  herbstlich  durch  die  dvirren  Blatter  sauselfc  !" 

Refresh  as  little  as  the  drizzly  wind 

Which  rustles  through  the  wither'd  leaves  of  Autumn. 


318  LIFE  AND   COKRESPONDENCE   OP 

secondary  thing  in  their  church — in  their  minister,  &c.  Of  course  they 
get  a  minister,  and  have  a  church,  in  which  religion  is  to  have  little  to 
to.  Christianity,  therefore,  is  the  last  thing  they  will  ask  of  him,  the 
last  thing  they  will  take  of  him,  or  tolerate  in  him.  "  Give  us,"  say  they, 
"  give  us  anything  but  religion — and  if  you  must  give  us  that,  give  us 
any  religion  but  the  Christianity  of  Jesus  Christ :  that  we  can't  bear, 
nor  won't."  I  don't  say  this  takes  place  consciously.  I  have  translated 
the  latency  of  such  men  into  patency.  I  don't  wonder  there  is  a  Nebel- 
wind :  the  Sauseln  thereof  is,  however,  applauded,  and  lulls  men  to  sleep. 
The  fact  that  no  minister  of  any  famous  church  signed  the  Anti-Slavery 
Protest,*  is  to  me  proof  of  their  deep  degradation — the  crowning  act 
of  their  infamy. 

Mephistopheles  gives  some  capital  advice  to  a  theologian  :— 

"  Am  besten  ist's  auch  hier,  wenn  ihr  nur  Einen  hort, 
Und  auf  des  Meisters  Worte  schworL 
Im  Granzen — haltet  euch  an  Worte  ! 
Danri  geht  ihr  durch  die  sichre  Pforte 
Zum  Temp  el  der  G-ewissheit  ein ! "  t 


TO   EEV.    S.   J.    MAY. 

April  24,  1846. — I  trust  you  will  attend  our  annual  convention  at 
Berry  Street.  Alas  !  that  it  should  so  often  be  a  convention  to  bury ;  a 
convention  of  the  dead,  though  unburied.  I  wish  some  of  the  wiser 
men  would  do  somewhat  to  make  our  meetings  more  profitable,  more 

alive.     I  don't  think  it  of  much  consequence  to  know  that  Dr. 

has  baptized  sixteen  children,  and  Dr. added  to  his  church  twenty- 
six  children  of  a  little  larger  growth.  Even  the  detail  of  "  our  excel 
lent  tracts,"  and  the  "great  extension  of  our  views  "  in  the  "West" 
or  the  "  North,"  seems  to  me  no  great  matter.  Cannot  something  be 
done  and  said  to  stir  men's  hearts,  heads,  hands,  so  that  even  the 
drowsy  shall  go  home  with  hearts  beating  in  their  bosoms  ?  Cannot 
we  set  men  on  and  make  them  take  hold  of  war,  slavery,  drunkenness, 
crime,  and  pauperism,  and  popular  ignorance  ?  I  love  theology  and 
philosophy,  love  them  as  ways  to  truth  and  therefore  avenues  to  human 
welfare,  to  goodness  and  piety.  But  it  seems  to  me  affairs  are  so 
managed  that  the  powers  of  a  good  many  in  the  denomination  are 
crippled.  The  best  minds  are  told  not  to  think,  or  if  they  do,  not  to 
think  on  theology,  still  less  on  reform,  but  to  follow  the  counsel  of  Dr. 
Byends  or  Mr.  Eacing-both-ways.  "We  do  nothing;  nothing  in 
theology,  nothing  in  civilization,  t.  e.  in  the  reforms.  If  there  is  an 

*  A  protest  against  American  Slavery,  in  1845,  to  give  emphatic  expression  to  the 
feeling  of  Unitarian  ministers.  A  great  many  signed  it— one  hundred  and  seventy — but 
no  leading  metropolitan  minister. 

t  Faust :  Scene  III.  Mephistopheles,  advising  the  student  who  asks  about  the  study 
of  theology : — 

"  Here,  too,  'tis  best,  for  some  one  man  declare, 
And  by  your  master's  dicta  swear. 
Upon  the  whole — the  form  of  words  hold  fast ; 
Then  through  the  temple-gates  you're  pass'd 
Securely  into  certitude. 


THEODOEE   PARKER.  319 

old  woman  in  the  denomination,  a  lorn  granny,  we  mate  him,  (her,  or 
it,)  our  oracle,  and  then  at  his  command  drive  out  of  the  State  such 
men  as  John  Pierpont — drive  them  out  because  they  are  righteous. 

I  ask  you  if  this  is  always  to  be  so,  if  men  like  you  are  willing  it 
shall  be  so,  and  younger  men  continue  to  be  disheartened,  muzzled, 
and  untimely  slain  ?  I  speak  to  a  wise  man ;  judge  you  what  I  say. 

Niagara  Falls,  July  15,  1846.— I  actually  slipped  through  Syracuse 
without  seeing  Archimedes  ;  I  know  it  seemed  unfriendly  to  do  so  ;  it 
was  quite  against  my  will.  When  I  purposed  to  make  this  journey, 
I  said  to  your  uncle  Sam,  "  I  shall  see  S.  J.  M."  "  And  you  will  preach 
for  him,  too,"  was  the  answer.  So  I  intended  to  stand  in  your  place 
all  of  last  Sunday,  but  was  hindered.  Yes,  "  I  have  been  let  hitherto." 
"We  got  delayed  by  one  accident  after  another,  and  having  three 
women(\ ! !)  with  me  I  was  constrained  to  pass  through  Syracuse,  stop 
ping  only  to  take  a  "  hasty  plate  of  tea."  What  made  it  worse  is, 
that  I  did  all  that  on  the  Lords  day,  or  rather,  the  Lord's  night,  for 
it  was  after  sunset  before  we  left  the  town  where  they  make  good  salt 
and  rejoice  in  a  bishop  who  hath  not  lost  his  savour. 

I  have  not  been  idle,  but  I  have  long  been  so  ill  at  head  that  I  have 
shunned  all  intellectual  action  which  I  possibly  could  avoid.  I  am  now 
travelling  wholly  for  health ;  I  have  a  most  excellent  appetite  and 
digestion,  but  all  else  is  poor  enough.  I  will  write  you  soon  after  I 
get  home,  when  I  hope  to  be  a  deal  better. 

I  wanted  to  talk  over  many  things  with  you,  this  amongst  others 
(which  please  not  name).  I  have  long  been  intending  to  write  an 
anonymous  "  Letter  to  the  American  People  touching  the  Matter  of 
Slavery,  by  One  of  the  Million."  I  wanted  to  ask  you  about  the  utility 
of  such  a  thing,  and  for  any  hints  that  you  could  give  me  touching  the 
matter  or  the  mode  of  treating  it.  I  wished  to  write  anonymously, 
because  I  have  a  lad  name ;  for  though  I  am  baptized  ©sou  Awpov  (Clod's 
gift)  I  believe  most  men  think  me  a  Devil's  child. 

I  am  amazed  at  the  way  good  men  and  politicians  look  at  the  matter, 
amazed  at  their  silence.  Of  course  I  shall  not  condemn  the  Church  or 
the  State ;  for  though  bad  enough,  they  are  the  best  institutions  we 
have. 

Nov.  13, 1846. — I  am  weekly  astonished  at  myself,  that  I  can  do  so 
well  as  I  do.  Dr.  Jackson  has  caulked  my  head  with  quinine  till 
it  is  air-tight.  I  was  never  better  off  in  my  head ;  I  can  write  a 
sermon  that  takes  an  hour  to  preach,  at  one  sitting  and  not  leave 
my  chair.  Isn't  that  brave  ?  I  don't  do  so  often.  It  is  riding  the 
horse  a  little  too  hard,  and  I  am  careful  now,  very  careful,  for  I  dread 
the  old  fire  that  threatened  to  burn  my  head  off.  I  would  lend  you 
sermons,  but  you  could  not  read  them.  I  have  about  1001  contrac 
tions,  and  make  a  dart  into  a  sentence,  and  then  it  goes  j  I  can  make 
it  out,  but  I  alone. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

I  am  glad  that  you  preach  to  the  young  men ;  do  tell  them  not  to 
become  sectarian ;  but  human  as  they  will,  and  divine  as  they  can. 
The  Unitarians  are  getting  shockingly  bigoted  and  little;  their  late 
meetings  were  windy,  and  they  meet  to  ventilate  their  narrowness; 


320  LIFE   AND   COERESPONDENCE   OF 

yet  how  contemptible  must  be  a  sect  who  only  deny  the  divinity  of 
Christ,  affirming  a  denial,  their  life  the  development  of  a  negation! 
Anniversary  "Week  had  painfully  little  of  the  Channing,  much  of  the 

,  bating  his  scholarship,   more   of   the  ,  cunning,  specious, 

superficial,  and  worldly.  The  Universalists  are  more  human  than  they; 
they  declare  the  fatherhood  of God,  and  do  not  stick  at  the  consequences, 
everlasting  happiness  to  all  men.  I  think  they  are  the  most  human 
sect  in  the  land.  They  had  an  address  on  temperance,  one  on  slavery, 
one  on  war,  delivered  before  their  ministers  on  Anniversary  Week ! 

TO   THE   SAME. 

June  14,  1847. — "Would  teach  me  "  chirography  "  !  As  if  my  hand 
writing  was  not  the  best  in  the  world !  I  am  offended.  They  say  that 
S.  J.  is  a  good  man ;  I  do  not  believe  it.  He  offers  to  teach  me  chiro 
graphy  !  That  is  an  insult,  a  downright  insult ;  no  frequency  of  repeti 
tion  makes  it  less.  You  must  have  told  other  persons  of  your 
intention,  for  several  others  have  intimated  similar  things ;  certainly 
the  thought  could  not  be  original  in  so  many.  I  forgive  everybody 
but  you.  I  shall  hate  you  for  ever. 

Alas,  me !  I  am  so  well  this  year  that  I  shan't  take  any  vacation ; 
so  busy  that  I  mean  to  work  all  summer ;  so  poor  that  I  can't  afford 
to  travel.  So  my  health,  my  business,  and  my  poverty  make  a  trinity 
of  reasons  against  my  doing  what  would  be  so  very  agreeable  to  do. 
But  don't  tell  anybody  of  the  latter  reason,  for  while  there  is  this 
world  of  misery  about  me  in  Boston,  and  some  of  my  own  kin  leaning 
a  little  on  my  shoulders,  and  the  anti-slavery  men  wanting  money  for 
their  work,  I  grudge  every  dollar  which  I  pay  to  the  butcher  and  the 
baker  for  myself. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Feb.  16, 1852. — "  The  Eev.  Miss  Brown  "  was  to  have  preached  for 
me  yesterday  afternoon,  but  there  was  a  blunder  made  by  "  Miss  Dr. 
Hunt  "  touching  the  time,  and  so  between  the  two  Doctors  we  fell  to 
the  ground.  She  was  to  take  up  Paul's  text,  "  I  suffer  not  a  woman 
to  teach,"  and  pitch  into  the  poor  apostle,  adding  a  peril  that  he  never 
dreamed  of,  the  peril  of  woman  !  The  apostle  escaped,  but  only  for  a 
week.  Miss  Brown  is  on  his  track.  Eeally  we  must  have  an  "  Asso 
ciation  of  Ministers "  that  will  license  maidens  as  well  as  men  to 
preach.  You  must  be  the  head  of  it,  must  organize  it  (and  write  its 
letters-missive),  call  it  together,  &c.  There  are  Sargent,  Weiss,  per 
haps  Stetson  and  Stone,  and  others.  We  might  make  a  nice  associa 
tion,  with  the  apostolic  power  to  bind  or  to  loose  ;  we  might  vote  that 
we  alone  had  the  apostolical  suggestion,  "  None  genuine  unless  signed 
'  S.  J.  May' ;  "  that  .we  are  infallible,  &c.  Then  we  might  license,  and 
do  all  matters  and  things  pertaining  to  the  function  of  associated  con 
gregational  ministers.  Do  think  seriously  of  this. 

Then,  about  the  Indians.  I  saw ,  and  I  informed  him  of  your 

doings.  "  I  was  afraid,"  said  the  Eev.  Divine,  "  that  in  the  f-6-6-6-6- 
lish  course  he  has  pursued,  that  he  had  furge-otten  the  Ind-yan  !  I  find 
he  has  lawst  a-aul  of  his  iu-flooence  as  a  minister  of  the  Gre-awspel." 


THEODORE   PARKER.  321 

Still,  I  told  him  of  all  that  you  had  done — the  meeting-house  that  you 
had  built,  the  school-house,  and  the  double  dwelling-house.  I  told  him 
how  you  mortified  the  flesh  with  a  buffalo-robe,  making  yourself  "  all 
things  to  all  men,"  that  you  might  by  all  means  save  a  squaw :  and  he 
was  delighted.  So  1  told  him  of  the  dogmatic  difference  between  the 
Pagan  Indians  and  the  Christian  Indians ;  the  one  called  the  Great 
Spirit  Ka-ka-gee-ga-wah,  and  the  others  Ka-ka-gee-ha-wah.  But  the 
practical  difference  was,  that  the  Pagans  made  the  women  do  all  the 
work,  and  the  Christians  did  it  themselves.  He  was  yet  more  de 
lighted,  and  began  to  think  you  were  not  so  bad  as  he  at  first  thought. 
Still,  "  He  put  himself  in  opposition  to  the  Govern-ment,"  said  this 
Christian  father.  Just  as  I  was  coming  away,  I  told  him  that  there 
was  not  a  young  man  in  your  society  that  habitually  drank — even  wine: 
and  then  I  fled. 

TO   THE  SAME. 

Thanksgiving  Night,  1851. — I  expect  to  be  a  grandfather  one  of 
these  days,  and  then  shall  be  reading  Dutch  or  writing  to  you  (as 
now)  on  Thanksgiving  Night.  But  as  I  am  not  a  grandfather  now, 
and  have  no  children  to  gather  under  my  roof,  I  keep  this  day  after 
rather  a  dull  and  mouldy  sort,  as  monks  do  in  their  cells,  reading  Dutch 
books,  or  some  other  light  nonsense  of  that  sort — say,  Ulphilas'  version 
of  the  New  Testament  into  the  Gothic  language,  or  regaling  myself 
with  the  pleasing  fancies  of  St.  Chrysostom,  or  the  Venerable  Bede. 
Nay,  Thomas  Aquinas  comes  sometimes  and  comforts  me  on  Thanks 
giving  Day  after  the  sermon.  Well :  that  is  enough  about  myself. 

Now  a  word  about  S.  J.  M.  When  we  received  his  letter  here,*  we 
did  not  believe  it ;  we  knew  him  better.  We  had  intelligence  by  the 
underground  telegraph  that  Mr.  May  was  the  head  and  front  of  the 
mob  at  Syracuse ;  that  he  mounted  the  horse  called  in  heaven  Steadfast, 
and  on  earth  Immoveable,  took  the  sword  which  his  venerable  father, 
the  colonel,  formerly  wielded  so  terribly  on  election  days,  and  shouted, 
"  The  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  S.  J.  M. ! "  "  A  bos  Millard  Fill- 

•more!"  "  Down  with  the  kidnappers!"  "  Give  'em !  'em!" 

and  rode  through  the  town  on  the  same  gallant  beast,  whose  vigour 
Mr.  Bradford  and  I  know  very  well.  Yes,  sir,  we  know  who  it  was  that 
broke  the  marshal's  arm.  But  we  never  trumpeted  the  story  around. 
After  the  Rescue  Trials  are  all  over,  and  you  are  acquitted  of  the  crime 
of  treason,  we  shall  publish  the  true  account  of  your  exploits  in  the 
Christian  Register.  Then  see  what  they  will  say  of  you  at  the  Berry 
Street  Conference.  You  will  never  preach  the  Great  and  Thursday- 
Lecture  again.  No,  sir.  It  is  doubtful,  even,  if  you  ever  hear  it 
again! 

March  7,  1852. — It  grieved  us  all  very  much  to  hear  of  your  mis 
fortune,  the  downfall  of  the  spire.  It  was  undoubtedly  the  work  of 
the  "  Divil,"  who,  as  Cotton  Mather  says,  has  a  particular  spite  against 
meeting-houses,  and  in  his  capacity  of  Prince  of  the  Power  of  'the  Air, 

•Concerning  the  Jerry  rescue  in  Syracuse,  on  which  occasion  Mr.  May,  who  was  with 
the  slave  and  the  marshal's  posse,  acted  his  customary  pacific  part.  But  it  is  suspected 
that  his  noble  and  touching  appeals  so  far  influenced  the  guard  as  to  make  the  rescue 
more  practicable. 

22 


322  LIFE  AND  CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

smites  them  with  lightning.  As  Dr.  Franklin  has  taken  the  lightning 
out  of  his  hand,  he,  poor  Divil!  has  nothing  but  the  wind  left  to 
strike  with. 

Good  Friday,  1853.  —  "If  you  have  tears,  prepare  to  shed  them 
now,"  for  a  most  melancholy  event  has  "turned  up."  It  is  terrible 
for  "  The  Denomination,"  and  all  "interested  in  our  views"  I  mean 
— horresco  referens — the 

DISSOLUTION  or  THE  GBEAT  AITD  THUHSDAY  LECTURE! 

Oct.  24,  1853. — I  was  over  at  Cambridge  the  other  day,  and  looked 
in  at  the  Divinity  School,  and  saw  several  of  the  bodies  which  were 
waiting  their  turn.  The  operators  were  not  in  at  the  time,  so  I  saw 
nothing  of  the  modus  operandi.  The  Egyptian  embalmers  took  only 
seventy  days,  I  think,  to  make  a  mummy  out  of  a  dead  man.  Uni 
tarian  embalmers  use  three  years  in  making  a  mummy  out  of  live  men. 
I  think  at  Meadville  they  do  it  in  less. 

Do  you  know  Mr. ,  of Seminary  ?  He  does  the  mummy- 

izing  for  the  Baptists.  I  saw  him  last  July,  when  he  exhibited  the 
result  of  his  work.  Pitch,  gum,  asphaltum  had  never  done  their  work 
better.  There  stood  the  mummies,  dead  and  dry  as  Shishak  or  Shoo- 
phoo,  ready  to  be  ordained  and  set  up  in  a  pulpit. 

I  hope  you  read  the  Register  of  last  week,  and  an  account  of  the 
"  Annual  Convention."  What  subjects  for  discussion  !  "  Have  we  a 
Litany  among  us  ?  "  Shall  we  have  one  ?  Again  :  "  On  what  Terms 
shall  Persons  be  admitted  to  the  Communion  ?  "  t.  e.  "  on  what  terms  " 
shall  a  person  be  allowed  once  a  month,  in  a  meeting-house,  on  Sunday, 
to  eat  a  crumb  of  baker's  bread  and  drink  a  sip  of  grocer's  wine,  which 
the  deacon  has  bought  at  a  shop  the  day  before ! 

What  if  nobody  at  all  is  allowed  to  come  to  the  Communion,  will  not 
Christendom  be  in  just  as  good  case  at  the  year's  end?  Dear  me, 
what  a  world  it  is !  Drunkenness  all  round  us ;  covetousness  eating 
the  hearts  out  of  society ;  ministers,  with  kidnappers,  members  of  their 
churches,  discussing  a  litany  and  the  terms  of  admission  to  the  Lord's 
Supper !  Bless  me !  if  the  JSTazarene  were  there,  at  the  Worcester  Con 
vention,  I  think  he  would  have  made  a  scourge  of  large  cords,  and  let 
loose  upon  the  assembly  till  they  had  such  a  stampede  among  the 
brethren  as  one  does  not  often  see  among  the  reverend  clergy ! 

Well :  the  age  is  leaving  these  old  boys  to  their  litanies,  and  their 
communions,  and  their  miracles.  What  politician,  what  philanthropist, 
what  merchant  (of  any  head  at  all),  what  man  of  science,  cares  a  pin 
for  all  this  humbug  ?  Religion  rises  early  every  morning,  and  works 
all  day. 

The  next  letter,  of  the  date  March  27,  1854,  addresses  Mr. 
May  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  Latin,  and  Russian,  and  then  proceeds, 
with  a  grotesque  fabrication  : — 

So  much  for  spelling  me  in  Greek,  and  calling  me  learned.    You  say 

that  you  are  not  so  odious  as  I  am.     You !     I  never  got  at  the 

cause  of  your  offence  till  a  few  days  ago,  when  it  was  "  communicated  " 


THEODORE   PARKER.  323 

• 

by  the  late — no,  the  prompt — Dr.  Pierce.  This  is  it.  Tou  preached  a 
sermon  at  the  "  Great  and  Thursday  Lecture,"  taking  Dr.  Parkman's 
place,  I  think,  before  a  very  select  audience,  such  as  usually  convenes 
at  that  place  and  time.  You  were  in  a  little  bad  odour,  and  wished  to 
show  that  you  had  some  grace  ;  and  so  showed  what  Mr.  Somebody,  in 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  says  is  the  first  sign  of  it,  viz.  a  disposition  to 
pick  holes  in  the  saints'  coats.  So  you  let  in  upon  the  faults  of  the 
brethren  ;  and,  after  enumerating  a  host  of  them,  thus  concluded  : — 

"  Dear  brethren,  it  pains  me  to  say  it,  but  it  is  true — most  of  you 
are  so  far  behind  the  age,  and  all  ages,  past  not  less  than  present,  that 
you  will  hear  nothing  new  till  the  last  trumpet ;  then  you  will  not  rise 
in  time  to  take  part  in  the  first  resurrection,  and  will  be  up  in  season 
only  to  catch  your  second  death  !  And  now  the  Lord  be  with  you ! 
Amen !  " 

After  that,  the  brethren  thought  you  made  "  havoc  of  the  churches," 
and  doubted  that  you  were  a  peace-man.  They  decided  that  a  man 
who  entertained  such  an  opinion  of  Unitarian  ministers  could  not  be 
a  Unitarian  himself,  and  voted  "  not  to  ask  Mr.  May  to  our  pulpits." 
How  many  men  have  extended  the  hand  of  the  churches  to  you  of 
late? 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Feb.  11,  1856. 

My  new  edition  of  the  "  Discourse  on  Matters  pertaining  to  Ee- 
ligion  "  is  out,  and  I  will  send  -you  twenty-five.  I  have  made  some 
alterations  of  considerable  importance,  as  I  do  not  now  believe  that 
John  wrote  the  Fourth  Gospel. 

I  cannot  comprehend  the  spirit  in  which  that  book  has  been  treated 
by  the  Unitarians  and  other  liberal  Christians.  I  can  now  look  at  it 
as  if  you  had  written  it,  and  not  I.  I  have  not  looked  into  it  since 
1846,  till  last  autumn,  when  I  revised  it  for  the  new  edition  ;  and  the 
criticisms  made  fourteen  years  ago  quite  amaze  me.  How  can  a  man 
be  so  stupid  and  so  wicked  as  to  mistake  the  drift  and  purpose  of  the 
book ;  but  they  did.  Orthodox  Professor  Porter,  in  the  New  Englander, 
did  admit  and  appreciate  the  religious  aim  and  spirit  of  the  book  in  a 
most  kind  and  generous  manner.  But  how  the  brethren  mocked  at  it! 

"Well,  it  did  not  break  my  heart ;  though  I  had  to  go  to  Europe  for 
a  year,  and  take  breath. 

TO   CORNELIUS   COWING,    ESQ ,    WEST  ROXBURY. 

Paris,  Nov.  19,1843. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  SQUIRE  COWING,— -You  will  say  I  have  not  for 
gotten  my  own  joke,  and  you  will  say  truly.  Here  we  are  in  Paris, 
enjoying  French  "comfort."  We  are  now  in  private  lodgings,  which 
we  entered  yesterday  for  the  first  time,  and  we  have  an  idea  of  French 
comfort,  such  as  we  never  had  before.  The  furniture  is  elegant,  a 
handsome  timepiece  on  the  marble  mantle,  and  very  dashy  urns  on  each 
side  thereof,  full  of  very  dashy  artificial  flowers ;  there  is  a  wardrobe  of 
elegant  mahogany,  with  a  great  mirror  for  its  door,  and  everything  in 


324  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

4| 

the  room  to  match,  but,  withal,  we  find  it  utterly  impossible  to  be  warm 
in  our  superb  apartement,  so  they  call  it,  and  the  winds  keep  up  such  a 
whistling  on  all  sides  of  us,  that  you  might  think  you  were  in  a  steam 
saw-mill. 

The  good  landlady  promises  to  remedy  all  these  inconveniences.  To 
morrow  we  are  to  have  a  grate  and  some  good  soft  coal  in  the  fire-place ; 
the  doors  and  windows  are  to  be  caulked,  and  super b  red  curtains  are  to  be 
hung  up  in  the  windows.  So,  you  see,  we  are  to  be  as  comfortable  as  a 
fly  in  a  barrel  in  mid- winter.  I  know  you  will  be  specially  interested 
in  what  concerns  the  drinking  in  this  good  city.  Let  me  tell  you  that 
we  have  dined  in  half-a-dozen  different  restaurants,  and  have  seen  all  the 
visitors  take  wine  with  their  dinner,  each  half  a  bottle.  The  wine 
commonly  drunk  is  very  red,  and  about  as  strong  as  good  lemonade, 
perhaps  as  strong  as  your  root  beer.  Here  is  a  market  for  wines,  the 
Halle  aux  Vins  they  call  it,  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  .which  covers,  I 
know  not  how  much  ground,  certainly  many  acres.  Here  are  great 
"magazines"  of  wine,  and  counting-rooms  of  the  dealers  in  that 
article.  You  can't  walk  for  two  minutes  in  any  street,  without  coming 
upon  a  "  magazine  of  wines."  Yet  I  have  not  yet  seen  a  man  intoxi 
cated,  not  in  the  smallest  degree.  In  England  you  see  drinking — coarse, 
hard,  vulgar  drinking,  and  men  drunk.  I  have  no  doubt  that  men  do 
get  drunk  in  Paris  as  elsewhere,  but  they  keep  it  close  from  the  eyes  of 
the  curious.  I  wish  some  of  those  who,  in  Boston,  would  like  to  have 
Sunday  made  a  day  of  amusement,  might  look  in  upon  Paris  some 
Sunday,  and  see  the  state  of  things  that  goes  on  there.  The  shops  are 
open  for  the  most  part,  all  sorts  of  work  are  going  on  as  on  other  days  ; 
the  churches  are  open,  but  there  are  few  persons  in  them,  women  for 
the  greater  part ;  in  the  evening,  the  theatres,  all  26  of  them,  are  open, 
and  crowded  too,  for  the  best  pieces  are  then  performed.  There  seems 
no  rest  for  man  or  beast ;  carts,  coaches,  omnibuses,  and  all  sorts  of 
vehicles  are  flying  about.  Now,  I  have  no  doubt  at  all,  that  the  popu 
lar  way  of  keeping  Sunday  in  Massachusetts  is  strict  beyond  all  reason 
able  strictness.  Still,  it  is  better  by  far  than  the  popular  method  in 
Paris.  I  have  no  doubt  that  many  in  Paris  go  to  the  theatre  Sunday 
night  for  just  the  same  reason  that  many  go  to  church  Sunday  night, 
because  they  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  themselves,  and  must  do 
something.  In  America,  put  a  man  of  a  great  deal  of  energy,  a  rest 
less  spirit,  in  some  country  town,  large  or  small ;  his  business  will  not 
occupy  all  his  energy,  perhaps.  If  it  does,  then  he  becomes  an  intense 
money-getter,  nothing  else.  He  thinks  money,  he  works  money,  he 
dreams  money.  Suppose  his  business  does  not  occupy  all  his  attention, 
and  this  may  happen  from  various  causes,  then  he  must  do  one  of  three 
things,  either  become  a  flaming  politician,  or  else  a  sectarian  enthusiast, 
who  gets  up  four-days  meetings,  and  "  hopes  to  merit  heaven  by  making 
earth  a  hell,"  or  else  he  will  be  a  drunkard — one  of  the  three  he  must 
be.  Now,  however,  the  temperance  and  anti-slavery  movements  are 
offering  new  fields  for  such  men,  which  they  will  enter,  and  where  they 
will  go  to  extremes,  I  fear,  and  sometimes  I  think  I  see.  Now,  if  we 
had  more  of  innocent  amusement,  it  seems  to  me  we  should  have  less  of 
several  things ;  viz.,  less  intensity  of  money-making,  less  political  vio 
lence,  less  sectarian  bigotry,  and  less  drinking  one's  self  drunk.  I 


THEODORE   PARKER.  325 

i 

don't  wonder  that  some  good  men  were  afraid  of  amusement,  when 
amusement  meant  getting  drunk ;  but  now  the  Washingtonians  have 
done  their  work  so  nobly,  it  seems  to  me  we  might  venture  to  play  a 
little,  "with  none  to  molest  or  to  make  us  afraid." 

Here  the  Government  gives  400,000  dollars  a  year  to  support  the 
theatres  in  Paris,  a  wise  measure  no  doubt,  for  if  the  "  surplus 
revenue  "  of  spirit  in  the  effervescent  population  of  France  is  not 
expended  in  frolic,  there  will  be  revolutions  and  mobs  and  all  sorts  of 
trouble,  so  the  Government  find  it  more  politic  to  pay  dancers  and 
musicians  and  mountebanks,  who  make  the  people  laugh  by  their  fun, 
than  to  pay  soldiers  who  make  them  sour  with  powder  and  cannon 
shot.  Do  not  you  think  it  would  be  a  pleasant  joke  for  some  one  to 
present  a  resolution  in  the  House  of  Representatives  of  Massachusetts 
that  the  State  pay  40,000  dollars  to  support  the  theatre  in  Boston  ? 
I  cannot  tell  you  of  all  that  I  have  seen  or  heard  in  Paris.  I  shall  do 
that  in  the  long  evenings  that  we  shall  spend  together,  I  trust. 


TO    PROF.    EDWARD   DESOR,    NEUCHATEL. 

Newton  Corner,  August  24,  1853. 

I  have  lately  been  to  the  "White  Mountains,  where  I  got  this  original 
kind  of  paper,  the  bark  of  the  Canoe  Birch  (Betula  Papyracea),  which 
I  write  on  as  a  memorial  to  such  a  naturalist  as  you  are.  Four  of  us 
went  together :  we  walked  up  on  the  east  side,  and  down  on  the  west, 
and  spent  several  days  in  wandering  about  the  mountain  valleys.  I 
found  some  fine  plants,  Eupatorium  Album,  Arenaria  Greenlandica,  &c. 
This  latter  I  have  found  on  the  sea-shore  at  Gloucester,  in  the  decaying 
granite,  but  in  a  temperature  quite  different  from  that  at  the  mcun- ' 
tains.  How  I  wished  you  had  been  there  to  explain  to  us  the  structure 
of  the  mountains  as  you  did  one  Sunday  at  Potts ville !  I  went  up 
Kearsarge  Mountain  also  ;  it  is  to  the  east  and  south  of  Mount  Wash 
ington,  3300  feet  high  and  of  conglomerate  to  the  top.  Of  course, 
not  like  the  conglomerate  which  we  saw  in  Pennsylvania.  From  that 
you  get  a  fine  view  of  all  the  principal  "White  Mountains.  You  see 
them  enfamille  as  it  were. 

I  have  no  news  to  tell  you.  Hillard  has  a  book  in  the  press,  "  Six 
Months  in  Italy."  "We  are  to  have  an  opera-house  in  Boston  which 
costs  250,000  dollars.  It  is  next  door  to  the  Natural  History  Build 
ing.  I  found  the  everlasting  "  Coast  Survey  "  upon  Mount  "Wash 
ington — measuring  the  height — I  expected  to  meet  also  the  "  Nautical 
Almanac,"  and  the  "  Smithsonian  Institute,"  but  found  only  Dr. 
Harris  with  a  Peranychia  Argyrocorna  in  his  hand,  and  a  box  full  of 
bugs  which  he  had  caught  and  impaled  on  German  pins — the  cruel 
entomologist !  I  fear  you  will  miss  the  Coast  Survey.  So  I  send  you 
a  report  of  their  doings  that  you  may  read  and  rejoice. 

You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  my  ten  sermons  are  reprinted  in 
England,  and  in  process  of  translation  at  Leipsic,  when  they  will  be  pub 
lished  as  a  Festgeschenk.  I  shall  send  you  in  a  few  days  another  little 
volume,  viz.,  "  Sermons  of  Theism,  Atheism,  and  the  Popular  Theology," 


326  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

and  along  with  it  the  Report  on  the  Geology  of  Iowa  ;  a  nice  book  is 
the  latter,  which  I  begged  for  you.  If  you  want  any  of  the  things 
published  by  Congress,  I  will  try  and  get  them  for  you. 

TO  THE   SAME. 

May  24,  1854. — I  will  send  you  a  sermon  and  a  speech  before  long. 
I  should  like  to  see  you  looking  at  a  lithograph  in  my  parlour  ;  when 
shall  I  ?  We  take  our  sacrament  of  Schabzieyer  *  on  Natural  History 
nights ;  but  there  is  no  Desor.  So  I  imitate  you,  call  the  Katz,  tell 
some  imaginary  discovery  in  science,  and  recall  the  good  old  times 

when  I  saw  you.    All  send  our  love ;  no  doubt would  if  she 

were  here. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

July  19,  1854. — "We  have  not  much  scientific  matter  of  interest.  I 
hope  you  have  seen  Dr.  Whewell's  "  Plurality  of  "Worlds."  He  admits 
no  habitable  spot  in  Rerum  Naturd  but  this  little  dirty  globe — all  else 
is  chips ;  no  intelligent  creature  but  man,  none  else  possible.  Jupiter 
is  all  water ;  Saturn  a  Scotch  mist ;  and  Mercury  all  smoke.  But  the 
book  is  amazingly  well  written.  Whewell  is  able  and  diligent,  learned 
and  earnest.  I  never  read  a  book  of  his  I  thought  so  able,  nor  one 
I  disagreed  with  so  much.  Murchison  has  an  able  book — so  says 
Professor  Rogers — which  I  have  not  seen.  So  you  want  a  copy  of 
the  Census.  I  have  one  for  you. 

Dr.  Fiister  is  quite  happy  just  now.  He  teaches  Franzozisch  at  New 
ton,  the  Lateinisch  und  Italienisch,  drinks  some  dutzend  glasses  of 
Baierisches  Bier  in  a  day,  and  thinks  the  Germans  are  the  schlechteste 
Leute.  The  good  old  soul  wishes  me  to  send  his  love  to  you  every  time 
I  write.  Dr.  Giinther  is  going  to  Nebraska,  for  one  does  many 
"  thincks  "  in  a  new  country,  as  he  says.  Arthur,  his  son,  has  gone 
already,  and  Clara,  I  hope,  will  go  and  get  a  husband, 
sends  her  compliments  and  her  thanks,  and  has  read  your  pamphlets 
with  great  pleasure.  She  is  a  dear  nice  creature,  brilliant  as  a  star. 

Wife  senda  all  sorts  of  kind  messages,  and  now,  dear  good  Desor, 
good-bye. 

T.P. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  24th  August,  1854. 

"We  are  all  well— have  just  returned  from  a  three  weeks'  expedition 
to  Vermont.  "We  have  been  the  length  of  the  State,  up  one  side  of 
the  Green  Mountains  and  down  on  the  other,  travelling  chiefly  by 
horses.  I  am  surprised  to  find  no  more  variety  in  the  botany  of  the 
State.  I  find  many  things  at  Mt.  "Washington  I  seek  in  vain  on  the 
Green  Mountains.  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  two  half- domesticated 
bears.  They  were  about  three  years  old,  and  so  tame  that  I  fed  them 
out  of  my  hand  with  nuts,  berries,  bits  of  bread,  lumps  of  sugar.  In  a 

•  Chap-Sager— Sap-sago,goats'-milk  cheese. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  327 

week  they  became  much  attached  to  me.  I  put  my  hand  in  their 
mouths  and  played  with  them  a  good  deal  every  day.  They  were 
fastened  by  a  chain  twenty  feet  long  to  the  opposite  ends  of  a  beam, 
which  revolved  on  a  pivot :  so  they  could  walk  about  as  much  as  they 
pleased.  Now,  this  surprised  me :  they  always  walked  their  round 
from  the  west  to  the  east  by  the  south — i.  e.,  against  the  sun's  course ; 
this  was  so  when  the  two  walked  round  turning  the  beam,  or  when 
a  single  one  walked  round  his  own  special  centre.  Do  they  always  do 
so — and  if  so,  why  ?  Who  has  written  a  good  treatise  on  bears  ?  Tell 
me,  do  bears  pair  for  life,  or,  like  so  many  other  animals,  only  for  the 
season  ? 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Indianapolis  (Indiana),  Oct.  18th,  1854. 

DEAB  DESOB, — Here  I  am,  a  thousand  miles  from  dear  old  sedate 
Boston.  I  come  on  a  lecturing  expedition.  I  am  to  lecture  eleven 
times,  and  preach  once  in  Indiana, -Michigan,  Ohio,  and  Pennsylvania. 
I  have  many  things  to  say  about  the  country  and  the  people.  I  wish 
I  had  you  to  help  me  observe  and  to  generalize  after  the  facts  are 
known. 

The  "West,  which  I  have  now  visited  three  times,  impresses  me  much 
with  the  width  of  all  things ;  there  is  a  certain  largeness  to  everything 
— streams,  plains,  trees,  pumpkins,  apples,  swine  (a  hog  in  Ohio,  1854, 
weighed,  alive,  1980  pounds,  another  2150),  and  men.  But  there  is 
a  certain  coarseness  of  fibre  also  noticeable  in  all  things ;  the  wood  is 
coarse-grained,  the  nuts  are  big  and  fat,  not  nice  and  sweet,  the  apples 
have  a  coarse  texture — all  the  vegetables  and  all  the  fruit. 

Did  you  ever  see  the  fishes  of  the  Ohio  ?  They  are  the  most  un 
couth-looking  monsters  I  ever  saw,  save  the  Roman  fishes  in  the 
market  at  Rome.  The  cat-fish,  an  ugly-looking  devil,  with  a  face  like 
an  owl ;  the  spoon-billed  cat-fish,  looking  yet  worse ;  the  buffalo,  an 
over-grown  sculpin ;  the  reed-horse,  and  the  sucker.  One  must  be 
hard-pushed  to  eat  one  of  these  wretches.  The  men  look  sickly,  yellow, 
and  flabby.  In  Indiana  I  saw  but  one  rosy-cheeked  girl,  about  eighteen 
or  nineteen.  "Were  you  born  here?"  "No,  sir;  in  New  Hamp 
shire."  "  I  thought  so'!  "  I  saw  300  or  400  children  in  the  schools  at 
Indianapolis — not  a  rosy  cheek !  The  women  are  tall  and  bony,  their 
hair  lank,  their  faces  thin  and  flabby-cheeked. 

What  effect  is  this  western  climate  to  have  on  the  human  race  ? 
It  must  check  the  intensity  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  character :  the  fertility 
of  the  soil,  the  dulness  of  the  air,  the  general  enervating  influence  of 
the  physical  circumstances,  must  deteriorate  the  human  being  for  a  long 
time  to  come.  Health  is  poor,  activity  small  in  comparison  with  New 
England.  You  are  right  in  your  estimate  of  the  American  climate 
on  Europeans. 

But  I  fear  the  West  deteriorates  Americans  quite  as  much.  It  is 
too  early  to  undertake  to  determine  the  full  character  of  the  Westerners ; 
but  this  is  pretty  plain,  they  will  no  more  have  the  same  energy  as  the 
New-Englanders  than  the  Britons  have  the  same  as  the  Norsemen  and 
Danes  who  went  from  Scandinavia  to  England. 


328  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

There  has  been  a  great  Baby  Show  in  Ohio ;  127  babies  were  offered 
for  prizes.  One  received  300,  one  200,  one  100  dollars,  and  besides 
several  gratuities  were  given  to  others  ;  the  prize,  of  course,  was  given 
to  the  mother.  I  think  Jonathan  is  the  first  to  offer  prizes  for  the 
best  baby.  An  agricultural  society  in  England,  a  few  years  ago,  gave 
£25  for  the  prize  ox  and  five  shillings  for  the  model  peasant ;  but  you 
will  see  an  account  of  the  baby  show  in  the  New  York  Tribune. 

TO   THE  SAME. 

Nov.  14,  1854. 

Dr.  Fuster  is  well,  but  scklimmer — poor  old  soul ! — he  has  only  one 
scholar  who  pays,  and  that  is  myself,  studying  Polish.  I  learned  Eussian, 
Illyrian,  and  Bohemian  a  little,  with  him,  long  ago.  A  young  Mr.  Krebs 
studies  Latin,  &c.,  but  is  poor,  and  pays  nothing.  The  old  Pachyderm 
is  in  a  sad  condition.  He  wants  to  go  back,  but  fears  the  priests,  and 
their  Pax  vobiscum  (Nicht  den  Kaiser  nur  die  Priester  /).  He  is  a  good 
soul,  and  I  love  him.  He  is  preparing  a  course  of  lectures  on  German 
Philosophic  (!)  and  Literatur.  Tour  beautiful  prints  adorn  my  parlor,, 
and  remind  me  of  dear  old  Desor,  who  is  duly  remembered  also  in  the 
Swiss  sacrament  of  cheese.  I  send  you  Lyell's  "  Travels  in  America," 
two  volumes  in  one>  the  two  numbers  of  the  Christian  Examiner,  with 
Agassiz's  articles,  and  another  book  ("  Types  of  Mankind"),  which  con 
tains  things  from  him.  I  am  always  glad  to  get  such  things  for  you — 
the  Humboldt's  "Schriften"  delighted  my  heart.  Tell  me  of  any 
new  scientific  books  :  what  is  a  good  monograph  on  bears  ?  Eemember 
me  to  those  at  Berne.  What  has  Yogt  done  lately  ?  Tell  me  about 
Johannes  Eonge,  now  in  London.  He  has  written  a  friendly  letter 
to  our  society.  I  shall  publish  a  volume  of  sermons,  speeches,  &c., 
next  month.  Did  you  ever  get  the  "  Sermons  of  Atheism,"  &c.  ?  Let 
me  know  about  the  atheists  of  Germany.  Let  me  see  all  that  you 
write  ;  if  it  be  about  the  Metaphysik  of  Echinoderms  it  will  interest  me. 
Mrs.  Eollen  and  Aunt  Susan  keep  house  in  Brookline,  all  happy.  I 
have  attended  only  one  meeting  of  the  Natural  History  Society,  for 

six  months.     Poor  old  Dr.  is  breaking  to  pieces,  but  is  more  and 

more  interested  in  science.     Alas!  old  age  is  beautiful  in  Alex.  Yon 

Humboldt,  but  sad  and  ugly  in and  most  men.   I  wish  I  could  talk 

to  you  about  it.  A  natural  old  age  is  a  fair  evening,  but  an  unnatural 
— bah !  let  me  never  see  it !  I  will  send  you  an  engraving  of  myself 
before  long  in  the  parcel.  I  don't  know  how  it  will  look.  Dr.  Fiister 
sends  love,  so  would  but  calls  it  "regards."  Hannah  sympa 
thizes  with  your  gout,  but  says  "  he  must  always  call  it  rheumatism, 
never  gout."  "Wife  sends  all  sorts  of  kindliest  remembrances,  where 
to  George,  now  a  "young  man  "  of  twenty,  adds  his. 

Good-bye.  T.  P. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

August,  1856. 

i  have  lately  been  reading  the  works  of  your  friend  Vogt,  viz., 
•'  Zoologische  Briefe,"  "  Physiologische  Briefe,"  "  Thierleben,"  &c.  He 
has  great  ability — writes  uncommonly  well,  for  a  German.  But  his 


THEODORE   PARKER. 


329 


books  are  to  me  quite  sad,  so  utterly  material  and  atheistic.  There  is 
Natur,  but  no  Geist.  He  does  not  merely  deny  a  God,  such  as  JTJT, 
ZEUS/Odin,  Thor,  but  all  God— God  an  sick:  there  is  no  Bewusstsein 
to  the  world,  no  Grand  to  this  Immerwerden.  So  all  is  planlos  and 
wiist.  Nature  looks  bad  enough  from  the  stand-point  of  the  altglaubige 
Lutheraner ;  but  with  them  there  was  a  Gott,  a  great  capricious  force, 
with  a  blundering  mind.  A  Durymkopf  is  their  Gott,  but  a  vast  will ; 
so  He  gave  a  certain  order  and  unity  to  the  world :  it  was  a  Kosmos, 
though  the  kosmifying  principle  was  only  a  will,  not  a  mind,  still  less 
a  conscience  and  a  heart.  But  to  me,  Vogt's  view  of  the  universe  is 
more  unsatisfactory,  for  he  admits  no  ordering  mind  or  will  in  the 
universe;  there  is  no  plan,  no  planning.  I  admire  his  genius,  his 
knowledge,  his  power,  and  his  love  of  freedom.  I  like  the  man,  but 
his  view  of  the  universe  seems  to  me  utterly  unscientific.  I  know  he 
would  say  that  I  am  only  a  Pfaff  (priest),  and  scoff  at  any  judgment  I 
could  offer ;  but  you  know  better.  His  view,  of  man  is  also  sad.  Life 
so  short  here,  old  age  so  gloomy,  so  hopeless,  steif,  and  starr  (see 
Physiol.,  1854,  pp.  671-680),  and  no  pursuits,  no  immortality! 
While  I  read  his  books,  I  am  enjoying  a  few  weeks'  vacation  in  the 

country.     I  live  in  the  house  of  ,  an  old  lady,  seventy-one  or 

seventy-three  years  of  age,  a  tall,  stately,  handsome-looking  woman, 
*  *  * 


As  I  think 

of  Vogt's  view  of  the  world,  it  seems  utterly  absurd  and  unscientific. 
You  know  that  I  am  as  far  from  all  Pfaffenthum  as  Vogt  himself ;  but, 
with  his  convictions,  I  think  I  would  not  live-  at  all.  I  should  be 
worse  off  than  his  Gregara,  or  Diplozoon,  who  have  no  self-conscious 
ness,  no  general  ideas.  I  should  like  to  know  how  far  his  views  are 
shared  by  the  Gebildete  (learned  men)  of  Germany  and  France.  (Look 
at  his  Physiol.,  1853,  pp.  632-634,  648.) 

There  are  many  things  in  his  books  which  I  want  to  talk  with  you 
about,  relating  to  affairs  of  science.  I  shall  now  read  all  of  his  works. 
I  own  all  but  the  "  Mittellandische  See"  and  "  Kohlerglaube."  But 
to-day  it  is  a  leisure  Sunday,  and  I  do  not  preach.  I  have  been  look 
ing  at  a  brand  new  work,  "  La  Vie  Future ;  par  Henri  Martin,  Membre 


and  is  a  piece  of  humbug.  I  thought  well  of  the  man  from  his 
"Philosophic  Spiritualiste  de  la  Nature,"  &c.,  but  now  have  no  con 
fidence  in  him.  Tell  me  about  him;  does  he  lie,  or  is  he  so  borne 
as  he  seems  ? 

What  a  long  letter  I  am  writing  you!  and  yet  there  shall  be 
another  on  my  birth-day,  three  weeks  hence.  But  do  you  remember 
that  you  and  1  are  to  visit  Sweden  together  ?  No  doubt  you  want  to 
see  Lilli ;  but  I,  the  midnight  sun,  Upsala,  &c.  Besides,  we  must  go  to 


330  LIFE  AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

the  tropics  together ;  neither  you  nor  I  have  been  there.  Now,  in  a 
few  years  we  shall  have  settled  our  political  quarrel.  You  must  come 
over  to  Boston,  and  you  and  I,  Howe,  Cabot,  and  others,  will  go  down 
to  Trinidad,  and  pass  the  months  of  December  and  January  in  those 
parts  !  What  do  you  say  to  that  ?  Let  us  see  the  tropics  first.  Tell 
me  what  books  to  read  on  the  vegetation  of  the  tropics.  I  will 
freshen  up  my  Spanish  a  little,  so  as  to  talk  with  the  natives.  Per 
haps  we  could  go  to  the  Amazon :  to  Trinidad  we  must — perhaps  in 
1858  or  1859. 

Now,  do  you  know  that  you  have  not  yet  sent  me  your  book  on 
Echinoderms  ?  Don't  say,  "  It  is  a  speciality  and  so  Parker  will 
take  no  interest  in  it;"  for  if  you  will  write  on  the  religion  of  the 
man  in  the  moon,  I  will  study  Selenistic  to  be  able  to  follow  your  re 
searches.  Tell  me  all  that  you  do  ;  how  you  pass  your  week-days  and 
your  Sundays.  What  sort  of  preaching  goes  on  about  you  ?  Tell  me, 
also,  if  there  are  any  good  works  in  any  department  of  human  activity. 
What  is  Vogt's  position  (Stellung)  now-a-days  ?  Is  he  also  professor? 
How  is  he  treated  in  Germany  ?  Tell  me  of  any  books  you  want  from 
America,  and  I  will  get  them  for  you.  And  now,  good  bye,  and  God 
bless  you ! 

Yours  ever, 

THEODORE  PAEKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Sfcaten  Island,  New  York,  24th  Aug.,  1856. 

MY  VEEY  DEAE  DESOE, — I  am  forty-six  years  old  this  day,  and  no 
wiser,  no  better,  have  done  no  more !  But  I  have  a  fondness  for  dear 
old  Desor,  who  is  yet  not  so  old  as  I,  but  an  old  friend.  So  I  must 
gratify  my  inclination,  and  begin  a  letter  here  and  to-day,  but  which 
will  not  get  finished  for  some  time  to  come.  First,  let  me  tell  you 
about  myself.  I  fear  you  would  hardly  know  me,  I  am  grown  so 'old 
in  look.  My  head  is  bald,  and  my  beard  is  gray.  I  have  a  full  beard, 
excepting  the  moustache.  (Beards  are  common  now  in  Boston  as  in 
t  Berne  or  in  Wien.)  I  have  grown  very  old  within  the  last  three  years ; 
too  much  work  and  too  many  cares  have  done  this  for  me.  But  I  shall 
mend  one  day  when  I  take  a  little  leisure,  and  you  and  I  run  down  to 
the  tropics  and  see  the  Orinoco ;  I  shall  recruit  straightway,  and  be 
come  young  once  more.  Here  and  now  my  life  has  not  enough  of 
sociality,  of  conversation,  and  joy  in  it.  What  you  Germans  call 
Heiterkeit,  I  have  too  little  of.  I  mix  with  men  chiefly  as  a  teacher, 
to  preach,  lecture,  or  harangue.  If  I  had  at  twenty-five  joined  some 
club  of  good  fellows,  and  met  with  them  to  talk,  laugh,  dance,  bowl,  or 
play  billiards  once  a  fortnight  ever  since,  I  should  be  a  wiser  and  a 
happier  man.  But  let  me  mend  for  the  future. 

I  look  back  with  great  pleasure  on  the  happy  times  I  have  had  with 
you  when  you  used  to  come  to  our  house.  I  was  a  little  afraid  of  you 
at  first,  thinking  it  would  not  do  for  me  to  visit  such  a  savant  and 
Gelefirte  as  "M.  Desor."  But  Cabot  took  me  over  to  East  Boston  and 
I  saw  the  crabs  and  the  Echinoderms,  and  got  acquainted  with  you 
right  well.  Few  men  ever  stimulated  my  mind  so  much  as  you,  for 
you  not  only  had  the  knowledge  of  details  in  your  sciences,  but  also 


•  THEODORE   PARKER.  331 

• 

the  comprehensive  generalizations  which  I  value  much  more,  and  which 
so  many  naturalists  lack.  From  my  earliest  recollections  I  have 
always  had  a  tendency  to  make  general  rules  and  find  out  universal 
laws.  I  remember  one  example,  when  I  was  not  quite  seven  years  old. 
I  looked  over  the  lichens  on  a  rock,  and  the  reindeer-moss  which  grew 
close  by  it,  and  the  huckleberry  bushes,  and  then  at  the  nut-trees,  which 
were  not  far  off,  and  said,  "  Here,  now,  is  a  regular  ascent,  the  rock, 
the  lichen,  the  moss,  the  grass,  the  bush,  the  tree ;  and  it  is  so  every 
where."  I  went  in  and  told  my  mother  of  my  discovery  of  the  scale  of 
things,  from  the  rock  to  the  tree.  Gradation  seems  a  general  law, 
nihil  per  saltum,  though  I  had  no  Latin  and  hardly  English  to  say  it  in. 
Dear  me,  I  am  growing  old,  talking  so  much  about  myself;  but  "as  it  is 
a  birthday  letter  you  will  forgive  its  egotism. 

Well :  you  had  a  grand  talent  for  generalization — and  helped  me 
much  in  many  things.  Now,  I  miss  you  greatly,  not  only  affection 
ately,  as  dear,  good  Desor,  but  scientifically,  as  "  Wise  Mr.  Desor,  who 
looks  so  deep  into  things,  and  so  wide  too."  Well :  do  you  never  mean 
to  come  back  ?  To  live  with  us,  I  suppose,  never ;  but  surely  to  visit  us  ? 

September  11. — Well :  the  Scientific  Association  has  met  at  Albany. 
I  could  not  go,  for  I  must  attend  to  my  friends  the  Hunts.  But 
they  had  a  regular  quarrel,  and  the  Cambridge  clique  say  that  "  Ml 
Brother,"  William  B.  Eogers,  you  know,  "made  all  the  mischief." 
But  Leslev  says  the  boot  was  on  the  other  leg.  I  enclose  a  slip  from 
the  New  York  Tribune  which  gives  a  general  account  of  the  meeting. 
Of  course  you  will  receive  the  report  by-and-bye,  and  will  smile  at  the 
little  vanities  of  great  men.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  who  has  written 
a  good  book  about  bears.  I  know  of  none.  Tell  me  also  about  the 
distribution  of  sensation  in  animals.  What  is  the  primitive  sense — 
Ur-sense  ?  Is  there  any  animal  which  has  the  sense  of  hearing  subject 
to  the  will,  as  we  that  of  sight  ?  I  think  sight  is  not  volitional  with 
spiders  and  some  other  insects.  What  do  you  think  of  Moleschott  ? 
Have  you  heard  of  Silgestrom  lately  ?  Tell  me  what  books  of  mine  you 
have,  and  I  will  add  what  you  lack.  Is  there  never  to  be  a  Madame 
Desor,  a  Frau-professorin  ? 

Yours,  ever,  T.  P. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Newton  Corner,  near  Boston,  Aug.  8,  1857. 

You  want  to  know  about  your  scientific  friends,  what  they  are 
doing.  Well,  then,  here  are  a  few  particulars.  Agassiz,  Pierce,  and 
Horsford,  have  been  attacking  "  Spiritualism,"  not  without  a  good  deal 
of  bitterness  and  violence,  and  some  unfairness  in  the  method  of  treat 
ment,  though  they  may  be  right  in  their  conclusions.  Somebody  offered 
500  dollars  to  any  spiritualist,  who  would  do  what  they  all  profess  they 
can  do,  in  the  presence  of  a  committee  of  unprejudiced  and  competent 
witnesses  accustomed  to  investigation.  The  attempt  was  made  before 
Agassiz,  Pierce,  Horsford,  and  others,  and  failed  utterly.  The  savans 
publish  the  result  to  the  world  in  insolent  and  boastful  language.  But 
the  spiritualists  claim  that  they  were  unjustly  dealt  with,  were  pre 
judged  before  the  examinations,  and  insulted  in  its  process,  all  of  which 


332  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

I  think  is  true.  Felton  has  been  writing  in  the  Boston  Courier,  the 
wickedest  paper  in  New  England  now,  conducted  by  a  club  of  invete 
rate  Hunkers,  who  love  slavery,  and  all  manner  of  injustice,  against 
"  Spiritualism,"  in  the  style  of  the  sixteenth  century.  His  opponents 
reply  in  the  same  style.  Of  course  you  will  not  suppose  I  believe  the 
spiritual  character  of  the  few  phenomena  which  have  made  so  much 
noise.  I  don't  think  Dr.  Franklin  and  Dr.  Channing  have  become  fools 
since  they  left  the  flesh.  Two-thirds  of  the  mediums,  I  think,  are 
skilful  jugglers.  Mr.  Hume,  you  see  is  humbugging  the  Parisians.  I 
don't  know  whether  Napoleon  the  Little  believes  in  him,  or  merely 
uses  him  as  the  priests  the  "  Virgin  of  La  Salette ;"  but  it  is  not 
uncommon  for  tyrants  to  be  superstitious.  Atheists,  I  mean  practical 
atheists,  often  believe  in  magic.  Spiritualism  is  doing  two  good  things. 
1.  It  knocks  the  nonsense  of  the  popular  theology  to  pieces,  and  so 
does  us  a  negative  service.  2.  It  leads  cold,  hard,  materialistic  men  to 
a  recognition  of  what  is  really  spiritual  in  their  nature,  and  so  does  a 
positive  good.  But  there  is  a  world  of  humbug,  nonsense,  and  fraud 
mixed  up  with  it. 

I  was  down  at  Plymouth  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  while  walking  on  the 
borders  of  a  large  mill-pond,  noticed  some  curious  facts.  The  shores 
are  of  fine,  delicate  sand,  and  slope  down  quite  gradually.  In  the 
night  the  mill  does  not  run,  and  the  pond  becomes  full ;  but  in  the  day, 
while  the  mill  is  at  work,  the  water  falls  five  or  six  inches,  or  more, 
causing  the  shore  line  to  recede,  and  leaving  a  wet  belt  all  round  the 
pond.  Of  course,  this  happens  with  all  mill-ponds.  But  during  the 
night,  the  wind  blew  moderately,  and  produced  a  quantity  of  foam  on 
one  side  of  the  pond,  which  lay  there  in  spots  when  I  visited  it.  But 
when  the  foam  had  disappeared,  the  sand  was  covered  with  those 
peculiar  marks  which  you  find  on  the  old  sandstones,  and  which  are 
attributed  to  rain-drops.  I  know  your  theory  as  to  their  origin,  if  I 
recollect  it  aright;  and  thought  this  fact  might  interest  you.  I  am  a 
poor  draughtsman,  or  I  should  send  you  a  drawing  of  the  indentations 
which  these  bubbles  make  as  they  perish  in  the  sand.  But  you  can  see 
the  same  thing  for  yourself,  no  doubt.  Do  you  know,  you  never  sent 
me  your  remarks  on  Old  Age  ?  I  am  quite  anxious  to  have  the  work, 
for  *I  am  almost  forty-seven  (!),  and  my  head  is  bald  and  my  beard 
gray. 


TO   THE  SAME. 

Boston,  26th  September,  1857. 

I  made  a  little  voyage  in  a  yacht,  with  a  dozen  other  persons,  in 
August,  and  had  a  good  time.  We  went  to  Nantucket,  and  thencj  to 
New  York,  and  up  the  Hudson.  At  Powder  Hole,  south  of  Cape  Cod, 
we  found  the  fresh  water  fill  the  holes  we  scooped  out  of  the  sand, 
though  they  were  made  within  a  foot  of  the  salt  water.  You  remem 
ber  this  fact,  on  the  little  sand-spits  at  Chatham,  on  Cape  Cod.  I  never 
found  it  so  on  other  beaches.  Do  you  know  of  other  examples  of  the 
same  thing  ?  What  explanation  do  you  give  of  the  fact  ? 


THEODORE  PARKER.  333 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Williston,  Connecticut,  August  24,  1858 

The  dear,  good  old  Dr  .Wesselhoffc  died  September  7,  at  4  A.M. 

It  was  his  65th  birthday.  He  has  been  overworked  continually  for  the 
last  seven  or  eight  years.  In  the  spring  he  was  ill,  and  went  to  New- 
buryport,  then  to  the  White  Mountains  for  the  summer.  He  returned 
to  Boston,  in  the  end  of  July,  a  little  better.  But  he  became  worse 
again.  Dropsy  of  the  chest  set  in ;  carbuncles  came,  one  on  his  leg, 
one  on  his  neck,  and  though  they  yielded  kindly  to  medical  treatment, 
it  was  too  much  for  him.  The  morning  of  September  1st,  at  4,  he  was 
sitting  in  his  great  chair  beside  his  bed,  and  said  to  his  wife,  "  Are  you 
getting  ready  also  ?  "  She  asked  him  what  he  meant,  and  he  said, 
"  Why,  you  know  you  are  likewise  invited."  He  then  laid  his  face 
on  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  was  immortal. 

Neither  he  nor  his  friends  thought  he  was  likely  to  die.  He  was  the 
recognized  head  of  the  Germans  in  Boston,  very  kind  to  many  who  for 
got  his  kindness ;  for  gratitude  is  the  latest-born  of  all  manly  virtues, 
the  youngest  and  fairest.  I  -fear  W.  leaves  little  property.  His  two 

sons  will  continue  the  business,  I  suppose I  attended  the 

funeral.  Dr.  Douai  also  spoke  a  Leichenrede  (funeral  address).  But 
an  atheist  had  not  much  that  was  trostend  (consoling)  to  offer  at  a 
funeral.  Dr.  W.  was  a  brave,  good  man. 

1  hear  that  you  have  discovered  the  remains  of  an  ancient  people, 
squatting  on  the  Swiss  Lakes.  They  must  have  been  Dutchmen — Hol 
landers,  I  mean,  to  build  on  piles  in  Switzerland,  as  at  Java.  Do  tell 
me  about  it.  It  seems  strange  that  in  Switzerland  every  antiquity  has 
not  been  sucked  dry  many  years  ago,  with  so  many  antiquarian  mouths 
pulling  at  it  all  the  time. 

TO  PROFESSOR  HENRY  D.  ROGERS,  EDINBURGH. 

Boston,  29th  December,  1857. 

MY  DEAB  MB.  KOGEBS, — It  did  me  much  good  to  take  your  excel 
lent  brother  by  the  hand  a  few  days  ago,  and  to  see  that  he  had  not 
suffered  so  much  as  we  all  feared  from  that  boulder  which  came  upon 
him  in  transitu  in  England.  He  bears  no  marks  of  it  now.  Perhaps 
he  will  have  a  new  theory  of  the  motion  of  erratic  bodies ;  but  I  hope 
will  witness  no  more  such  experiments.  He  told  us  how  pleasantly 
you  were  all  settled  in  Auld  Reekie,  and  what  a  nice  time  you  had  both 
for  work  and  play.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  your  book  gets  on  so 
famously,  and  will  see  the  light  so  soon. 

What  is  one  man's  joy  is  another's  grief;  the  English  make  a  Pro 
fessor  of  you  in  Glasgow — alas  me  !  they  also,  at  the  same  time,  make 
you  a  Scotchman,  and  what  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh  gains  Boston  loses. 
No  part  of  it  will  feel  the  loss  more  than  the  little  house  in  Exeter 
Place,  and  the  few  persons  therein,  whom  you  so  often  gladdened  and 
instructed  of  a  Sunday  night.  But,  notwithstanding,  we  all  rejoice  in 
your  new  honours,  and  pleasant  position,  and  certainty  of  useful  work. 

No  doubt  you  can  tell  me  who  Henry  Thomas  Buckle  is  ?  He  has 
just  printed  a  great  book  on  "  The  History  of  Civilization  in  England ;" 


334         t  .  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Vol.  I.,  a  thick  8vo,  of  near  900  pages.  This  is  only  Vol.  I.  of  the  In- 
troductiou  to  the  work.  I  think  it  a  great  book,  and  know  none  so 
important  since  the  "  Novum  Organum  "  of  Bacon.  I  mean  none  in 
English.  Of  course  I  except  the  "  Principia"  of  Newton.  This  is  a 
"  Nqvum  Organum  "  in  the  department  of  history — the  study  of  man  ; 
it  is  a  restauratio  maxima.  Nobody  here  ever  heard  the  name  of  Henry 
Thomas  Buckle  before.  If  you  can  tell  me,  I  wish  you  would  ;  and  also 
what  is  thought  of  the  book  in  that  Northern  Athens  where  you  dwell. 
In  many  particulars  it  reminds  me  of  the  "  Vestiges  of  the  Natural 
History  of  Creation."  I  don't  always  agree  with  the  author,  even  in 
matters  of  "  great  pith  and  moment ;  "  but  always  think  him  a  great 
man.  His  learning  also  is  admirable. 

Have  you  seen  Agassiz's  book  ? 1  wish  you  would  tell 

me  what  you  think  of  it.  There  are  two  things  I  wish  in  special  to 
hear  of,  namely — 1.  About  his  idea  of  God  in  the  world  of  matter.  Do 
any  thoughtful  naturalists,  who  of  course  doubt,  and  must  needs  doubt, 
the  ecclesiastical  idea  of  God,  find  any  satisfaction  in  his  God  who  thus 
intervenes  to  create  new  genera,  while  individuals  and  species  get  created 
without  that  mode  of  help  ? 

2.  About  his  ideas  of  the  distinction  on  which  branch,  order,  genus, 
&c.,  are  to  be  based.  How  original  is  he  there— how  correct  ?  I 
thought  that  part  of  his  work  the  most  valuable  of  it  all,  but  defer  to 
the  judges  in  such  a  court.  My  wife  and  Miss  S.  send  warm  greetings 
to  Proiessor  Rogers,  Mrs.  Rogers,  and  to  Babie  Rogers.  Need  I  also 
to  send  mine  ? 

Yours  faithfully, 

THEODOEE  PAEKEB. 

TO   REV.    DAVID   A.    WASSON. 

Boston,  30th  June,  1856. 

MY  DEAB  ME.  WASSON, — I  don't  know  what  to  advise  you,  but 
yet  will  try  and  give  my  opinions  about  the  matter. 

1.  If  you  remain  in  Groveland,  you  will  satisfy  your  feelings  of 
affectionate  regard  for  the  people  who  have  been  w'ith  you  in  times  of 
trial,  and  stood  by  you.   But  you  will  be  tormented  with  the  conviction 
that  it  is  not  the  place  for  you,  not  large  enough  to  occupy  your 
powers,  and  will  die  at  last,  rather  early  too,  with  the  bitter  thought 
that   you   have   not    done    what  your  talents  alike  demanded  and 
promised. 

2.  If  you  go  to  Medford,  you  will  try  to  graft  an  apple  scion  into 
a  scrub  oak.    You  will  keep  grafting,  and  the  more  you  try  the  more 
it  won't  live.    Nobody  can  do  any  good  to  that  class  of  men :  they 
would  crucify  Jesus  if  he  were  to  come ;  your  merits  will  be  a  per 
petual  torment  to  them.    You  have  only  two  things  which  they  will 
appreciate  — 1,  intellectual  power ;   2,  diligent    industry :   they    will 
feel  one  and  see  the  other.     But   the  deep  religious  feeling  which 
warms  you  all  through,  the  fair  humanity  which  comes  out  like  a  green 
summer  all  over  your  features,  that  they  will  only  make  mouths   at. 
I  know  the  Hunker  genus  right  well,  and  take  it  the  Stand-bys  of  the 
parish  are  unmitigated  specimens  of  that  genus. 


THEODORE  PARKER,  335 

But  there  are  a  few  men  of  a  different  stamp,  and  a  few  young 
persons  also ;  of  them  there  is  great  hope.  But,  alas  !  for  the  minister 
who  attempts  to  settle  in  such  a  place.  I  know  few  persons  in 
Medford  :  the  Misses  Osgood,  who  are  noble  women,  as  extraordinary 
in  their  moral  excellence  as  in  their  deep  and  wide  intellectual  culture, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stearns,  earnest  and  progressive  people ;  I  hear  of 
others  of  that  stamp ;  one  young  man  I  partly  know.  If  the  con 
trolling  Hunkers  would  be  "  translated  to  a  brighter  sphere,"  or  would 
enter  the  Episcopal  Church,  where  they  are  cakes  of  the  right  leaven, 
all  would  go  on  well. 

At  Medford  you  will  have  these  advantages — 1,  a  material  com 
petence,  regular  and  certain  ;  2,  time  for  study ;  3,  opportunity  to 
obtain  books.  Harvard  College  is  three  miles  off,  and  you  could  now 
and  then  buy  a  volume;  besides  4,  occasional  communion  with  literary 
men,  the  opportunity  for  lecturing.  All  these  are  admirable  things. 

3.  At  Columbus  I  suppose  you  will  find  things  much  in  the  rough  ; 
earnest,  hearty,  vigorous  men  and  women,  progressive  also,  but  a  little 
coarse,  irregular,  not  cultivated.  Columbus  is  the  capital  of  Ohio,  and 
is  not  without  books ;  half  the  year  it  is  filled  with  the  political  talent 
of  the  State.  You  will  have  a  permanent  circle  of  able  men  and 
women  whom  you  will  mould  and  influence,  and  ennoble  them  and  their 
children. 

Then  flouting  men  will  come  and  hear  you  from  time  to  time, 
attracted  by  your  power,  and  forced  to  think  by  what  you  say  and  do. 
You  will  be  one  centre  of  religious  power  in  that  great  State,  where 
now  is  not  one.  You  will  work  hard,  fare  hard,  and  grow  to  great 
stature.  You  will  not  have  the  nice  culture  so  easily  acquired  at 
Medford,  so  graceful,  so  beautiful,  so  desirable.  But  strength  of  man 
hood,  nobleness  of  life,  you  will  have,  it  seems  to  me. 

I  know  you  better  than  you  think  I  do,  and  let  me  say  there  is  no 
minister  in  New  England  from  whom  I  expect  so  much.  If  you  go  to 
Ohio  I  shall  not  see  you  a  great  deal ;  if  you  come  to  Medford  we 
shall  meet  often  and  help  each  other. 

Now,  pardon  me  for  writing  this  long  letter,  and  don't  let  it  in 
fluence  you ;  do  nothing  hastily,  be  sure  of  the  actual  state  of  things 
at  Medford  and  Columbus,  for  I  may  be  misinformed  of  both.  The  fact 
that  the  Medfordians  invited  you  may  be  taken  as  qualifying  their 
Hunkerism,  showing  that  the  weather  is  more  moderate. 

I  must  preach  for  you  sometimes,  and  you  for  me.     God  bless  you ! 

THEO.  PABKEE. 


TO   PETER   LESLEY,   PHILADELPHIA. 

Boston,  Nov.  15,  1857. 

MY  DEAE  ME.  LESLEY,— It  did  me  good  to  see  your  handwriting 
again  ;  but  I  fear  there  is  little  to  be  done  this  year  in  the  way  of  lec 
turing,  even  on  iron.  The  lecturers  hereabouts  complain  of  no  work. 
Some  societies  have  sent  out  their  circulars  and  cancelled  the  engage 
ments  already  made.  Others  have  "  suspended  "  for  this  season.  The 
way  to  make  yourself  known  in  that  line  is  to  send  a  line  to  the  New 


336  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

York  Tribune,  and  ask  it  to  put  your  name  in  its  list  of  lecturers.   But 
I  fear  little  will  be  done  this  winter.     Labour  stops,  and  all  stops. 

I  wish  you  lived  where  I  could  see  you  often,  and  talk  over  matters 
of  science.  Since  Desor  has  gone,  and  now  Professor  H.  D.  Rogers, 
I  am  in  great  want  of  scientific  company. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you  think  of  Agassiz's  essay.  I  wish 
you  would  tell  me  if  Agassiz,  in  Chapter  I.,  removes  the  difficulty 
which  philosophers  find  in  their  way,  and  which  makes  atheists  of  them 
— so  the  ministers  say.  I  find  more  real  atheism  amongst  theologians 
than  amongst  philosophers.  The  former  deny  the  substance  of  God  in 
the  world  of  things  and  men,  and  send  us  off  to  some  phantom  which 
lives  (or  stays)  at  a  distance,  and  now  and  then  "  intervenes  "  by  a  mira 
cle — this  deus  ex  machind  ;  they  are  ready  to  deny  his  laws.  But  the 
latter  deny  the  existence  of  that  God,  and  yet  admit  the  immanent 
reality  of  a  power  of  thought,  will,  and  execution  which  fills  all  space 
and  all  time,  is  ever  active, .and  never  needs  to  "intervene"  where  He 
for  ever  dwells. 


TO    MISS    EMMELINE    PARKER,    HINGHAM,    MASS. 

West  Roxbury,  Aug.  2,  1843. 

MY  DEAB  EMMELINE, — I  thank  you  for  your  pleasant  letter,  but 
beg  you  not  to  suppose  that  I  should  ever  criticize  your  letters.  No, 
no  ;  write  just  as  you  think,  just  as  you  feel.  A  person  of  real  eleva- 
tion  is  never  an  unkind  judge  or  critic.  Tour  letter  pleases  me  very 
much.  I  understand  the  feeling  of  bashfulness  that  troubles  you,  but 
you  must  overcome  that.  Try  to  forget  yourself;  don't  think  that  any 
body  is  looking  at  you,  or  thinking  about  you.  I  have  suffered  a  great 
deal  from  the  same  feeling.  I  have  been  to  see  a  person,  and  got  to 
the  door,  and  found  it  impossible  to  ring  the  bell,  and  walked  away  till 
I  got  the  necessary  courage.  But  I  overcame  it ;  so  will  yon.  Don't 
keep  thinking  about  what  you  are  going  to  say ;  say  it  as  well  as  you 
can.  You  had  better  take  pains  to  see  other  persons,  as  many  as  you 
can,  and  to  talk  with  them,  only  don't  talk  when  you  have  nothing  to 
say,  but  have  something.  I  know  you  have  enough  in  you,  by-and-bye 
it  will  come  out ;  what  you  want  is  confidence.  Habit  will  give  you 
this.  Mr.  Smith  will  be  glad  to  talk  with  you  ;  he  is  a  little  precise  in 
his  ways,  but  no  man  has  a  kinder  heart,  or  a  better  soul,  towards  all 
persons  that  wish  to  learn.  I  hope  you  take  care  of  your  health — 
that  you  use  air,  water,  and  exercise,  not  forgetting  to  sit  up  straight. 

Very  truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  Aug.  22,  1843. 

MY  DEAB  EMMELINE, — I  thank  you  for  your  letter.  I  like  the 
spirit  with  which  you  write.  Always  write  as  you  think  and  feel.  I 
knew  what  the  cost  would  be  at  Hingham  before  you  went.  Mr.  Smith 


THEODORE   PARKER.  337 

has  only  charged  what  we  agreed  upon  beforehand.  The  scruple  you 
have  about  going  to  Lexington  is  nothing.  I  wish  you  to  go,  and 
shall  feel  myself  the  party  obliged  if  you  accept  of  my  offer.  You 
will  help  your  mother  most  effectually  in  this  very  way.  I  think  every 
body  ought  to  work  in  some  mode  or  another.  You  will  make  the 
experiment ;  if  you  find  the  mode  that  Providence  designed  for  you  is  to 
work  with  your  hands  as  before,  why  you  will  go  back  to  that,  a  posi 
tion,  in  my  eyes,  just  as  honourable  as  any  in  the  world  ;  if  you  find  it 
is  to  work  with  your  head,  and  keep  a  school,  why,  you  will  continue  in 
that.  I  have  no*  doubt  of  your  abilities  ;  try,  try,  and  we  shall  see.  I 
know  you  will  succeed.  At  Lexington  the  expense  will  be  less,  about 
two  dollars  a  week,  and  no  charge  for  tuition.  I  do  not  think  you  can 
do  anything  to  lessen  that  cost. 

I  shall  want  John,  perhaps,  to  go  with  you  to  Lexington  on  the 
Tuesday  before  the  second  Wednesday  in  September.  I  will  give  you 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mr.  May,  the  teacher  of  the  school.  I  will 
have  the  bills  sent  to  West  Roxbury,  and  will  leave  directions  about 
returning  the  money  to  Mr.  May. 

Believe  me,  very  truly,  your  friend, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO   THE    SAME,    WEST   NEWTON. 

West  Roxbury,  Oct.  4,  1844. 

MY  DEAR  EMMELINE, — Don't  be  discouraged  about  yourself.  All 
will  come  in  its  time  ;  I  have  no  doubt  you  get  the  lessons  well.  In  a 
short  time  you  will  learn  to  recite  them  well  likewise.  Try  to  keep 
composed.  Don't  think  of  yourself.  I  don't  mean,  don't  be  selfish, 
for  I  know  you  are  not  that,  but  try  not  to  think  about  yourself  more 
than  of  another  person.  Little  children  are  always  easy  and  natural, 
because  they  are  not  self-conscious;  they  don't  think  how  this  will 
appear,  so  tney  always  appear  free.  I  expect  much  of  you.  I  knew 
you  would  find  Mr.  Pierce  a  little  harder,  and  apparently  colder,  than 
Mr.  May.  But  he  is  quite  as  good  a  man,  I  fancy,  and  certainly  as  good 
a  teacher.  By-and-bye  this  appearance  will  wear  away,  and  you  will 
find  the  man — the  man  with  a  large  warm  heart— not  without  imperfec 
tions,  trul}',  but  with  real  merits  and  kind  sympathies.  I  know  you  did 
not  find  any  fault  with  him,  but  I  saw  how  you  felt,  as  well  as  if  you  had 
written  a  volume.  Take  good  care  of  your  health,  sit  up  straight, 
don't  go  out  in  the  damp  evenings  without  a  cloak  or  a  shawl ;  when 
you  study,  be  careful  not  to  take  a  constrained  position.  Then  I  would 
try  to  be  free  and  sociable  with  others.  I  know  you  used  to  complain 
that  you  did  not  talk ;  you  will  overcome  that  by-and-bye ;  not  all  at 
once,  but  naturally  and  slowly.  Of  course  you  must  continue  at  the 
school,  and  become  a  teacher.  I  doubt  not  you  will  be  a  successful 
one,  valuable  to  the  shy  and  timid  as  well  as  to  the  forward  and  bold.  I 
was  sorry  that  I  could  not  get  over  to  Brookline  to  see  you  before  you 
went  away,  but  so  many  persons  come  to  see  me  that  I  have  no  time 
to  go  abroad.  I  have  not  been  to  Lexington  yet.  Well,  I  know  you 
will  always  be  a  good  girl,  and  come  out  right  at  the  last. 

Believe  me,  always  truly,  your  friend  and  uncle, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

23 


338  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

Boston,  23rd  March,  1849. 

MY  DEAB  , — I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have  you  suppose  I 

would  advise  you  or  any  one  to  marry  lor  anything  but  the  most  pure 
and  holy  affection.  I  think  that  marriage  is  the  great  sacrament  of 
life,  and  I  hate  to  see  one  profane  what  God  meant  to  be  so  holy  and 
beautiful.  What  I  said  to  John,  I  said  as  much  in  joke  as  in  earnest. 
Do  not  suppose  I  meant  you  should  say,  "  Well,  now  this  year  I  will 
look  me  up  a  man,  and  be  married  ! "  It  is  no  such  thing.  Still,  I 
think  a  good  deal  of  happiness  depends  upon  marriage ;  a  good  deal  of 
a  man's  happiness,  and  a  good  deal  of  woman's :  there  may  be  one  or 
two  persons  in  a  hundred  to  whom  marriage  would  not  be  a  good  thing 
or  natural  thing,  but  to  the  great  majority  of  mankind  and  womankind 
it  is  a  desirable  thing.  But  it  is  very  bad  to  marry  one  not  fit  for  you  ; 
one  for  whom  you  are  not  fit.  There  are  whole  marriages,  and  there 
are  fractional  marriages,  where  only  a  part  of  each  is  married,  and  the 
rest  remains  as  single  as  before.  I  like  not  the  fractional  wedlocks.  I 
have  thought  that  you  lived  too  much  by  yourself,  that  you  saw  few 
persons,  and  most  of  them  of  not  a  very  elevating  character ;  that  you 
were  shutting  yourself  up  in  a  very  narrow  circle,  where  there  were 
few  liberal  ideas,  few  liberal  sentiments,  and  that  the  effect  on  yourself 
would  be  a  bad  one.  At  one  end  of  your  business  is  the  school-room, 
at  the  other  end  an  orthodox  meeting-house,  with  an  illiberal  man  in  it, 
setting  forth  rather  degrading  ideas  of  man,  of  God,  and  of  the  relation 
between  man  and  God.  Now,  I  don't  want  to  make  you  discontented 
with  your  business.  I  think  any  condition  is  high  enough  to  rear  the 
loftiest  virtues  in.  I  think  your  calling  is  a  noble  one ;  the  school-room 
a  beautiful  place  to  develope  the  mind  in ;  the  meeting-house  I  am  not 
a-going  to  quarrel  with.  I  only  want  to  introduce  a  little  more  variety 
into  your  life,  to  get  some  new  influences  to  work  there.  I  thought  a 
new  scene,  new  duties,  new  faces,  would  effect  that,  and  therefore  I  felt 
a  little  sorry  that  you  did  not  go  to  St.  Louis  ;  but  you  know  best.  I 
think  good  books  would  help  you  a  good  deal ;  I  don't  mean  "  Jose- 
phus,"  nor  *'  Baxter's  Saints'  Best,"  nor  the  "  last  words  and  dying 
confessions  of" — anybody,  but  the  real  sterling  literature  of  the  Eng 
lish  nation.  If  you  will  read  good  authors,  I  never  will  joke  you  any 
more  about  a  husband,  for  I  don't  think  a  husband  is  one  of  the  things 
which  you  must  have,  only  might.  I  will  help  you  to  any  books  that 
you  may  want ;  a  husband  you  won't  ask  me  to  look  up  for  you. 
With  best  regards  to  you  and  all,  yours  affectionately, 

THEODOEE. 

TO   MISS   E.    M.    WHITE. 

Boston,  6th  May,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  ETTA, — I  shan't  let  the  mail  go  back  to-day  without 
taking  my  thanks  for  your  kind  and  most  welcome  note.  I  am  very 
glad  to  hear  you  are  well  and  pleased  with  your  school,  teacher,  study, 
&c.  I  think  you  could  not  do  better  than  attend  Mr.  Briggs's  meeting. 
He  is  a  warm,  affectionate  man.  I  hope  you  will  become  acquainted 


THEODORE   PARKER.  339 

with  his  wife  also — a  noble  woman,  of  a  quite  superior  character.  I 
hoped  to  see  you  at  the  lecture  in  Salem,  and  supposed  you  were  gone 
from  town.  You  must  not  be  afraid  of  me  ;  I  am  not  at  all  formidable, 
and  "won't  bite."  Perhaps  I  shall  see  you  at  Salem  before  the  term 
ends,  and  show  you  how  little  reason  you  have  to  be  timid  before  me. 
But  I  was  once  quite  as  diffident  as  you  are  now  ;  we  all  get  over  such 
things. 

I  hope  you  take  exercise  in  the  open  air,  and  so  will  keep  your  health 
firm ;  many  of  our  young  women  break  down  in  their  studies  because 
they  don't  know  how  to  live.  It  is  difficult  to  learn  without  living 
first ;  then  the  knowledge  often  comes  too  late. 

"When  you  write  to  your  mother,  please  remember  me  kindly  to  them, 
and  believe  me  affectionately,  your  friend, 

THEODOBE  PARKER. 


TO   MISS    E.    P.    PEABODY. 

Friday  Morning,  1841. 

*##### 

But  you  remember  that  as  Christian  tranquillity  is  the  fairest  and 
the  costliest  fruit  on  the  Christian  stem,  so  it  is  the  last  that  matures. 
Even  Paul,  great-minded  and  deep-hearted  as  he  was,  could  not  find  it 
till  old  age.  Paul  the  aged  alone  could  say,  "  I  have  fought  the  good 
fight.  I  have  finished  my  course.  I  know  whom  I  have  served,  and  am 
thereby  persuaded  that  God  is  able  to  keep  what  I  have  committed  unto 
him.  (rod  hath  not  given  me  the  spirit  of  fear,  but  of  love  and  of  a 
sound  mind."  Even  if  you  are  not  yet  triumphant,  I  know  that  you 
will  be.  The  human  will  is  strong  and  excellent ;  but  not  the  strongest 
nor  most  excellent ;  when  perfectly  coincident  with  the  will  of  God,  I 
suppose,  we  are  not  conscious  of  any  personal  will.  Then  the  Infinite 
flows  through  us  and  we  are  blessed.  Why  should  not  you  be  egotisti 
cal  in  your  letters  ?  It  would  grieve  me  if  you  were  not.  Do  not 
fear,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  good,  to  tell  me  your  sorrows.  I 
know  by  very  bitter  experience  that  the  full  heart  'finds  comfort  in 
communing  with  others,  in  telling  its  sorrows  even  to  one  who  can 
only  mingle  kindred  tears,  but  cannot  stay  them  except  with  com 
passion  and  deeper  love.  I  cannot  "wonder"  at  your  sorrow,  I  only 
wonder  that  you  bear  it ;  that  you  do  not  faint  beneath  the  cross. 
This  disappointment  is  truly  the  greatest.  Love  is  its  own  reward, 
but  when  changed  to  a  different  feeling, — to  one  almost  opposite,  there 
is  nothing  but  Christian  faith  that  can  bear  it.  Oh,  the  depth  of  the 
human  heart  that  can  suffer,  and  suffer,  and  still  live  on !  Your  case  is 
well  imaged  by  Milnes: — 

"  They  who  have  sat  at  heaven's  own  gate, 

And  felt  the  light  within, 
Come  down  to  our  poor  mortal  state, 

Indifference,  care,  and  sin ; 
And  their  dim  spirits  hardly  bear 
A  trace  to  show  what  once  they  were." 


340  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Jan.  7,  1841. 

MOST  EXCELLENT  ELIZABETH, — I  have  often  wished  for  your  cri 
ticisms  on  my  sermons,  and  now  I  will  ask  you  in  all  friendliness  to 
send  me  such  strictures  as  you  can  make  from  recollection  on  the 
"  Sermon  of  Pharisees."  If  you  will  do  so,  you  will  really  confer  a 
great  favour.  I  write  swiftly,  though  I  think  slowly,  and  so  many  of 
the  literary  defects  of  all  my  sermons  are  no  doubt  the  result  of  haste. 
But  still  more,  perhaps,  arise  from  the  principle  of  saying  the  best 
things  I  have  in  the  plainest  way  I  can.  The  good  folks  of  Spring 
Street  are  not  men  of  dictionaries,  and  so  I  never  use  a  word  of  Latin 
origin  when  I  can  find  one  of  native  birth.  Besides,  I  design  to  take 
illustrations  from  the  commonest  objects.  Hence  come  words,  and 
things,  and  illustrations,  and  allusions,  which  are  not  in  good  taste 
when  viewed  from  any  point  except  the  pulpit  at  Spring  Street.  Still 
farther,  in  all  my  sermons  there  is  an  excess  of  metaphors,  similes,  and 
all  sorts  of  figures  of  speech.  But  this  is  my  nature — I  could  not  help 
it  if  I  would. 

"  My  mouth  I  do  but  ope, 
And  out  there  flies — a  trope." 

This  will  not  always  be  natural,  but  so  long  as  it  is,  why,  I  suppose 
I  must  dwell  in  the  tropics.  Now  if  you,  my  good  and  dear  Elizabeth, 
will  be  good  enough  to  point  out  my  redundancies  and  defects,  my  sins 
against  good  taste,  and  any  others  you  think  of,  in  my  sermons  in 

feneral,  and  that  on  Pharisees  in  particular,  you  will  do  me  a  great 
indness,  for  I  will  try  to  mend.     I  think  I  can  bear  any  severity 
which  you  would  be  apt  to  display. 

Yours,  as  ever, 

T.  P. 


TO   MRS.    DALL,   PORTSMOUTH,  N.H. 

West  Roxbury,  4th  August,  1846. 

MY  DEAB  CAROLINE, — Many  thanks  for  your  kind  letter  of  the  13th 
instant.  It  came  when  I  was  far  off,  else  I  should  have  indulged  myself 
with  an  answer  immediately.  I  had  a  great  mind  to  write  you  from 
Niagara,  but  my  good  resolution  went  where  many  before  it  have  also 
gone.  I  know  how  busy  you  must  be,  even  if  you  have  all  the  "  help  " 
in  the  world ;  for  you  are  in  a  new  place,  and  a  woman  like  you  will 
find  quite  work  enough  in  an  old  one.  I  rejoice  in  your  active  head 
and  noble  heart,  believing  they  will  find  much  to  do  anywhere. 

The  work  you  are  engaged  in  is  curious  as  a  sign  of  the  times — a 
reproach  to  us,  and  an  honor ;  a  reproach,  that  there  should  be  a  class 
of  the  poor,  that  they  should  find  no  place  in  our  steepled  churches — 
for  the  rich  and  poor  do  not  meet  together  now-a-days ;  an  honor, 
that  some  should  devote  their  lives  to  the  work  of  enlightening  the 
ignorant  and  comforting  the  afflicted,  that  others  should  give  their 
money  for  this  work.  Still,  I  must  count  it  a  dreadful  disgrace  to  a 


THEODORE   PARKER.  341 

town  of  12,000  people  that  such  a  ministry  is  needed.  I  don't  believe 
in  chapels  for  the  poor,  or  preachings  for  the  poor ;  but  a  minister  for 
the  poor  I  do  believe  in  with  all  my  might,  and  think  it  the  noblest 
ministry  that  we  know  of  in  these  times.  The  place  and  duty  of 
woman  it  is  quite  impossible  for  a  man  to  define.  I  suppose  each 
woman  must  consult  her  own  nature  and  her  own  circumstances,  and 
then  do  the  best  she  can.  The  present  arrangement  of  society  I  think 
a  very  imperfect  one,  and  I  hope  it  is  soon  to  pass  away  ;  a  few  live  in 
leisure,  with  a  town -house,  a  country-house,  and  a  house  by  the  sea 
side.  They  have  nothing  to  do,  and  do  it ;  but,  in  doing  nothing,  they 
multiply  the  burdens  of  others,  and  keep  some  in  perpetual  toil,  with 
no  chance  to  cultivate  their  nature. 

What  you  say  of  Mr. rather  surprises  me.     I  had  thought  him 

a  very  good  man,  and  quite  remarkable  for  his  skill  in  turning  wood, 
ivory,  and  the  like.  I  have  heard  him  spoken  of  as  quite  as  dry  and 
hard  as  the  wood  and  ivory  he  turned  in  his  lathe.  But  what  we  see 
depends  as  much  on  ourselves  as  on  what  is  before  our  eyes. 

I  don't  believe  a  woman  will  arrive  at  the  "  Science  of  Universals  " 
in  frying  fish  ;  if  so,  she  is  the  most  fortunate/Har  the  world  ever  saw. 
I  must  confess,  however,  that  I  have  found  all  the  real  problems  of  life 
most  happily  solved  by  labouring  men  and  women ;  not,  however,  by 
such  as  did  nothing  but  fry  fish. 

I  doubt  not,  a  great  genius  would  arrive  at  much  wisdom  if  shut  up 
in  a  jail  all  his  life.  But  most  men  depend  on  their  circumstances 
more  than  on  their  souls.  Set  ten  women  to  cooking  fish  all  their 
lives,  and  nine  of  them  will  know  nothing  but  how  to  fry,  stew,  boil, 

broil,  and  bake.     I  query  if  Mr. would  have  learned  more  in  that 

way.     I  think  the  next  time  your  "  help  "  goes  away,  you  had  better 

send  for  Mr.  ~ ,  and  give  the  baby  to  me.     Perhaps  I  could  learn  as 

much  from  the  baby  as  he  from  the  mackerel.  I  think  a  man  who  has 
no  children  is  deprived  not  only  of  a  solace  and  a  joy,  but  of  a  quite 
important  element  of  his  education.  I  have  always  noticed  this  fact 
in  others,  and  feel  it  in  my  own  case.  I  wish  you  all  manner  of  joy  in 
your  home  and  your  work.  Give  my  regards  to  Mr.  Ball,  and  believe 
me  heartily  and  truly  yours,  THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Oct.  23,  1846. 

I  don't  believe  it  needful  for  you  and  Mr.  Dall  to  think  alike ;  true, 
it  is  pleasant,  but  we  can't  all  think  alike,  however  much  we  feel  alike. 
I  don't  believe  a  tenth  part  of  the  folks  at  the  Melodeon  agree  with  me 
in  theology ;  they  agree  with  me  in  religion,  and  in  the  application  of 
that  to  life.  So  we  agree !  I  think  I  have  been  true  to  my  own  first 
principles. 

Harwood*  is  a  quiet,  noble  man  ;  I  admire  him,  love  him  very  much. 
But  we  differ  a  good  deal  in  our  philosophy,  I  think.  He  took  in 
Strauss  whole.  I  have  been  so  long  familiar  with  theological  thoughts, 
that  Strauss  did  not  much  surprise  me,  except  with  his  terrible  ability. 

I  should  teach  the  little  one  positive  religion;  I  mean  absolute 
religion — Christianity.  I  should  use  the  mythical  stories  in  the  Old 

*  Philip  Harwood,  a  noted  English  writer,  of  the  Liberal  school 


342  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

Testament,  New  Testament,  and  from  other  sources,  as  helps.  I  should 
present  Christ  as  the  model ;  other  good  men  as  helps  also,  but  inferior. 
I  would  not  teach  him  what  he  will  wish  to  unlearn  when  lie  becomes  a 
man.  "Write  to  me  always  when  you  will  and  can,  and  I  will  answer  as 
I  can.  Don't  fear  with  wearying  or  troubling  me.  I  am  not  very 
well ;  but  better  than  before  for  a  year. 

About  letters,  I  am  caution  itself ;  I  am  sometimes  afraid  of  myself, 
I  am  so  cautious.  I  suppose  men  take  me  for  rash,  but  so  they  mis 
take  me. 

Give  my  regards  to  your  husband,  my  kiss  to  your  baby,  and  believe 
me  truly  your  friend,  THEO.  PAEKEE. 


TO   MISS    ELLEN   GROVER,   LAWRENCE,   MASS. 

Boston,  Nov.  1,  1853. 

DEAE  FEIEND, — I  fear  you  underrate  the  actual  value  of  the  Bible, 
and  the  literary  culture  of  some  of  its  writers,  as  well  as  the  deep 
nobleness  of  their  best  productions.  But  I  have  no  time  to  speak 
of  that  subject  at  length.  I  can  only  refer  to  the  books  you  wish  to 
hear  of,  and  read. 

It  strikes  me  that  a  history  of  the  Christian  Church  would  be  of 
great  service  to  you.  The  "  Church  History  "  of  Neander  is  a  master 
piece  in  its  way.  In  that  you  will  find  a  good  history  of  the  opinions 
of  the  Christian  Church  in  various  ages,  and  will  see  the  gradual  rise 
of  the  Institutions  which  have  done  so  much  both  good  and  ill.  But 
Neander  does  not  complete  the  work — there  are  four  volumes  of  his 
book.  The  history  of  the  Reformation  you  will  find  in  Mosheim's 
"Church  History."  There  is  no  good  work  in  English  that  I  know  on  the 
doctrines,  but  Hagenbach's  is  the  best  ("  History  of  Doctrines,"  &c.) 
The  Ecclesiastical  Histories  will  give  you  some  account  of  Mohammed 
and  his  doctrines.  But  you  had  better  read  the  Koran  itself. 

There  is  an  excellent  translation  by  Sale,  with  a  "  Preliminary  Dis 
sertation  "  of  much  value.  Mr.  Merrick's  "  Life  and  Religion  of 
Mohammed  "  (Boston,  1850),  will  help  you  much  in  understanding 
the  opinions  and  whimsies  of  the  Mohammedans. 

I  do  not  know  any  good  book  in  English  on  the  doctrines  of  the 
Catholics.  In  the  "Family  Library,"  there  is  a  nice  little  book  on  the 
History  of  Philosophy,  in  two  volumes.  They  are  Nos.  143  and  144  in 
that  set.  Mosheim's  book,  on  the  "  History  of  Christianity  in  the  First 
Three  Centuries,"  is  a  valuable  work. 

Mr.  Greg's  work  on  the  "  Creed  of  Christendom,"  is  also  a  work  of 
great  merit. 

Believe  me,  your  friend  and  servant, 

THEO.  PAEKEB. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

....  I  never  take  texts  out  of  Shakespeare.  I  once  took  a  text 
from  the  Governor's  proclamation,  "  God  save  the  Commonwealth  of 
Massachusetts!"  once  from  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  "All 
men  are  created  equal." 


THEODOKE   PARKER.  343 

Religion  is  the  most  important  of  all  human  concerns,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  and  requires  both  the  heart  and  the  head.  But  there  is  only  one 
kind  of  religion — though  there  may  be  very  many  degrees  of  it.  Religion, 
I  take  it,  is  piety  (the  love  of  God)  and  goodness  (the  love  of  man.) 
one  man  has  much  of  it,  and  another  little 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  15th  Nov.,  1858. 

MY  DEAE  FBIE:NI>, — I  have  mainly  recovered  from  the  troubles 
which  have  afflicted  me  a  long  time,  and  had  a  rather  alarming  look  for 
awhile.  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  do  what  you  suggest  on  the 
first  day  of  the  new  year.  The  rings  and  the  flowers  shall  each  have 
their  place  in  the  services  of  the  occasion.  This  is  the  way  I  proceed : 
— I  shall  first  make  a  little  address  of  a  few  words.  This  part  will 
apply  to  the  special  character  of  the  persons,  and  here  the  flowers 
may  show  their  fragrant  beauty.  Then  will  come  the  words  of  the 
marriage  union — and  the  rings  will  appear.  Finally,  I  shall  make  a 
brief  prayer,  I  hope  suited  to  the  feelings  of  the  parties. 

If  you  will  let  me  know  at  just  what  hour  you  will  present  yourself 
with  the  bridegroom,  it  will  be  a  great  convenience,  for  January  1st  is 
a  pretty  busy  day  with  me,  and  I  may  have  other  services  of  the  same 
nature  to  attend  to. 

It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  learn  that  you  have  found  you  a 
fitting  mate.  Long  may  the  highest  earthly  happiness  be  yours,  and 
in  due  time  the  super-earthly  ! 

Tours  faithfully, 

THEODOBE  PAEKEB. 


TO  MISS   CARRIE   H.    PRATT,    CONCORD,   MASS 

Boston,  3rd  Sept.,  1855. 

MY  DEAB  LITTLE  CniCKiE, — I  was  very  glad  to  receive  so  joyous 
and  hearty  a  letter  from  you.  Soon  as  I  knew  who  "  Agnes  Atherton" 
was,  and  saw  her  cheery  face,  I  knew  there  was  nothing  to  fear.  I 
rejoice  with  you  in  your  new-found  joy.  Love — pure,  noble,  refined 
love,  brings  a  new  consciousness  to  us.  I  know  of  no  delight  that  is 
merely  mortal,  so  high,  so  ennobling,  so  divine.  It  transforms  all  the 
world  to  us,  when  another  gives  us  his  heart,  and  we  give  him  our 
heart. 

I  say  merely  mortal,  but  this  is  also  immortal,  a  foretaste  of  heaven. 
I  hope  you  will  find  a  husband  worthy  of  you,  and  that  you  will  be 
worthy  of  anybody.  But  you  have  not  told  me  his  name. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  missed  you,  and  hope  to  see  you  before  long ; 
so  when  you  are  in  town,  let  me  see  how  this  joy  has  writ  itself  in 
your  eye.  I  have  just  returned  from  the  country,  and  have  no  more 
time  for  a  word,  so  good  bye. — Affectionately, 

THEO.  PAEKEE. 


344  LIFE  AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

TO    THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Dec.  14,  1855. 

MY  DEAB  LITTLE  MAIDEN, — "  The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run 
smooth."  So  it  is  writ  in  many  a  history.  This  particular  affair  may 
turn  out  quite  different  from  what  it  now  appears.  There  are  many 
ups  and  downs  in  a  courtship.  If  there  were  not  a  true  congeniality 
between  you,  it  is  fortunate  he  made  the  discovery  so  early  :  by-and- 
bye  it  would  be  more  painful  to  break  off.  But  be  the  future  what 
it  may,  of  this  you  are  sure — the  love  which  filled  up  the  four  months 
with  its  handsome  flowers,  that  leaves  a  mark  like  the  traces  in  the 
rocks  of  New  England,  which  will  never  be  effaced  from  the  character. 

I  know  it  is  very  painful  for  a  young  maiden  to  bear  such  dis 
appointments,  especially  for  deep-hearted  maidens ;  but  there  is  a 
source  of  strength  and  comfort  in  the  religious  faculties  within  you, 
which  will  never  refuse  supply  in  the  time  of  sorest  need.  Burnt 
spots  in  the  woods  bear  the  earliest  plants,  and  the  most  luxuriant  and 
most  delicate  flowers.  So  can  it  be  with  you.  So  I  trust  it  will  be. 

It  will  always  give  me  pleasure  to  see  you,  and  hear  from  you. 
Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 


TO   THE   SAME. 


Sept.  12th,  1857. 


MY  DEAB  CABBIE, — I  have  in  young  days  been  often  in  just  such 
a  mood  of  mind  as  that  you  now  suffer  from,  and  found  none  even  to 
tell  it  to.  But  do  the  duty  which  lies  next  your  hand,  and  you  will 
find  the  way  plainer  to  another  duty,  and  also  that  it  is  not  so  difficult 
to  bear  any  special  cross  that  is  laid  upon  you.  There  are  two  kinds 
of  sorrows ;  1st,  such  as  have  a  real  outward  cause,  and  2nd,  such  as 
have  only  an  unreal  and  imaginary  cause.  Yours  are  chiefly  of  the 
latter,  and  perhaps  for  that  very  reason  the  more  difficult  to  endure. 

There  lies  on  my  desk  at  this  moment  a  note — it  came  a  half-hour 
ago — from  a  European  exile.  He  has  been  Court  Preacher,  and  a  Pro 
fessor  at  the  University  of  Vienna,  has  had  large  sums  of  money  at 
his  disposal,  and  lived  in  elegance  and  wide  charity. 

Many  persons  thronged  his  doors,  so  that  it  was  difficult  for  his 
servant  to  arrange  the  visitors  in  his  ante-chamber.  Now  he  lives  in  a 
little,  miserable,  dirty  room  in  a  German  boarding-house,  with  a  rum- 
shop  in  the  cellar,  and  gives  lessons  in  English  to  German  immigrants 
at  25  cents  the  hour.  Nobody  visits  him,  and  though  a  good  scholar, 
speaking  eight  or  nine  languages,  he  has  no  society  except  the  low 
Germans  who  frequent  the  groggery  downstairs !  But  he  does  not 
complain — only  looks  forward  to  his  departure  out  of  this  world,  to  him 
so  sad.  I  wonder  if  you  would  not  bear  that  sorrow  better  than  the 
imaginary  griefs  which  now  disturb  your  fancy.  Do  the  day's  duty, 
and  thank  the  good  God  when  it  is  done:  bear  the  cross  and  be  content 
that  it  is  no  worse. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  345 

What  is  not  delightful  is  disciplinary ;  I  don't  know  a  bitter  drop 
that  I  should  dare  say  I  could  have  done  without  in  my  cup. 

Cheer  up  your  little  brother.  Give  ray  best  regards  to  your  father 
and  mother,  and  believe  me, 

Affectionately  yours, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  9th  March,  1858. 

MY  DEAB  CABBIE, — I  was  sorry  to  see  you  no  more  in  Boston  this 
winter.  You  must  not  make  yourself  so  much  of  a  stranger  for  the 
future,  when  you  are  here.  But  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  present 
employment.  Trust  me,  actual  duties  faithfully  done  are  the  best  ally 
against  ideal  woes.  There  are  sorrows  which  can't  be  thought  down, 
nor  dreamed  down,  nor  wept  down,  but  which  may  be  worked  down. 
The  common  duties  of  life  are  the  best  training  for  mankind  and 
womankind.  They  furnish  us  just  the  discipline  we  need.  Education 
by  things  is  the  better  part  of  our  schooling ;  at  least  it  has  been 
so  to, 

Affectionately  yours, 

THEODOBE  PABKEB. 

TO  THE   SAME. 

North  Eiver,  Aug.  18,  1858. 

MY  DEAB  CABBIE, — When  your  letter  came  to  me  I  was  too  tired 
to  do  anything,  but  yet  obliged  to  do  much ;  and  since  I  have  had  no 
time  to  write  any  answer.  Now  I  have  a  moment  of  leisure  while 
steaming  down  the  Hudson,  and  write  with  a  pencil  (as  you  see),  and 
not  a  pen,  for  the  convenience  of  the  thing. 

I  shan't  scold  you,  having  small  belief  in  the  good  effect  of  that 
method  of  procedure  ;  but  I  think  you  quite  unreasonable  in  your  un- 
happiness.  Why,  really  it  is  wicked  for  a  fine,  healthy,  rosy-cheeked 
young  maiden,  with  bright  eyes  and  a  good  appetite,  to  be  unhappy  or 
sad  in  circumstances  like  yours.  Think  a  moment  how  well  you  are 
situated.  Father  and  mother  rather  over-fond  of  their  only  daughter ; 
brothers  whom  you  love,  while  they  return  the  feeling ;  a  congenial 
and  useful  occupation,  wherein  you  learn  while  you  teach;  and  a 
world  of  life  before  you,  where  you  may  shape  your  course  as  you 
like,  at  least  very  much  as  you  like. 

I  would  disdain  to  be  unhappy,  but  would  chase  off  and  put  to  utter 
rout  all  thoughts  of  melancholy.  You  have  read  too  many  works  of 
a  romantic  and  foolish  character,  and  the  mind,  like  the  hand,  gets 
"  subdued  to  what  it  works  in,"  or  even  plays  with,  continually.  I 
think  it  is  not  grateful  to  allow  such  dreary  feelings  as  you  seem  to 
cherish,  if  not  cultivate. 

Your  school  will  soon  begin  once  more,  and  I  trust  you  will  cast  all 
these  complainings  to  the  wind.  By-and-bye  you  will  find  some  worthy 
young  man  of  good  principles,  good  habits,  and  with  a  hearty  love  for 
you,  and  then  you  will  wonder  you  could  ever  have  constructed  so  great 
winter  out  of  a  cloud  which  hung  only  in  your  own  fancy.  But  if  this 


346  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

should  not  happen  (and  I  make  no  doubt  it  will,  and  hope  it  will),  yet 
you  have  resources  enough  within  yourself  to  make  you  happy.  I 
would  not  be  a  piece  of  last-night  hanging  in  the  house,  but  rather  a 
great  piece  of  a  bright  to-day,  spreading  warmth  and  light  all  round. 

I  would  devote  a  considerable  part  of  my  leisure  to  the  domestic 
duties  of  home,  would  be  skilful  in  all  housework,  and  famous  for 
making  good  Iread;  the  actual  plain  duties  of  life  are  the  best  out 
ward  medicine  for  the  unreal  romantic  woes  of  our  day-dreams. 

Yours  truly, 

THEODOEE  PAEKEE. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  10th  Sept.,  1858. 

MY  DEAE,  CAEEIE, — Tour  lot  is  harder  than  I  fancied,  for  I  thought 
your  occupation  was  a  fixed  fact,  which  would  continue,  and  that  Theo 
dore's  health  was  mending,  and  would  finally  be  restored.  It  is, 
indeed,  very  sad  to  see  a  boy  thus  fade  away.  It  is  natural  the 
old  should  die ;  it  is  against  nature  that  the  young  pass  off  so  pre 
mature.  Still,  I  see  no  reason  for  the  foolish  melancholy  you  indulge 
in,  and  seem  to  cherish.  I  know  not  how  much  of  it  is  constitutional, 
and  so  beyond  your  control ;  still,  I  fear  much  of  it  is  wilful  and  within 
your  own  power;  this  latter  you  should  check  at  once,  and  finally 
make  way  with  and  end.  It  cannot,  perhaps,  be  done  by  a  direct  act 
of  the  will,  but  indirectly  by  the  performance  of  daily  duties.  The 
common  events  of  life  afford  the  best  opportunities  for  happiness  and 
noble  character.  House-keeping,  school-keeping,  and  the  like,  is  the  best 
thing  for  the  majority  of  women — it  is  as  good  as  grass  for  the  cattle. 

By-and-bye  you  will  find  a  school  somewhere — a  common  school  will 
not  be  an  unfit  place  for  you  to  work  in  :  I  would  seek  the  highest  I 
was  fit  for,  and  put  up  with  the  best  I  could  find.  But,  for  the  time, 
you  must,  no  doubt,  stay  at  home,  and  do  what  you  can  for  your  little 
brother.  I  trust  you  will  find  comfort  and  satisfaction,  but  it  must  come 
out  of  your  own  soul. 

Remember  me  with  kind  sympathies  to  your  father  and  mother,  and 
Theodore,  too. 

Affectionately  yours, 

THEODOEE  PAEKEE. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Brot  Dessus,  Canton  de  Neuch&tel,  Suisse,  August  14,  1859. 

MY  DEAB  CAEEIE, — I  learned  your  brother's  death  at  St.  Croix, 
about  a  month  after  his  release  took  place.  I  always  felt  a  strong  in 
terest  in  him,  both  because  he  was  the  first  child  born  at  Brook  Farm, 
and  because  he  was  the  first  ever  named  after  me.  But  of  late  years  I 
have  been  so  overborne  with  all  sorts  of  work,  that  I  have  had  no  time 
to  visit  him  or  his  parents,  whom  I  learned  to  honour  and  esteem  long 
before  he  was  born  or  Brook  Parm  thought  of. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  347 

The  fortitude  he  showed  in  his  long  and  terribly  painful  illness  is  very 
extraordinary ;  still  more  remarkable  is  the  intellectual  activity  and 
application  he  carried  on  in  the  winter.  I  am  glad  the  poor  fellow  got 
his  release  at  length,  and  in  a  manner  so  gentle  and  painless.  The  eman 
cipated  soul  has  passed  on  to  another  sphere  of  existence,  of  which  we 
know  not  the  details,  nor  cannot  know  till  we  enter  there,  I  take  it. 
But  resting  in  the  infinite  perfection  of  G-od,  we  have  nothing  to  fear, 
but  every  good  thing  to  hope  for  and  confide  in.  No  misfortune  hap 
pens  to  him  who  dies ;  he  is  but  born  again.  He  has  taken  one  step 
more  in  the  endless  progress  of  the  individual,  to  be  joined  ere  long  by 
his  earthly  dear  ones,  who  with  him  will  pursue  the  journey  of  immortal 
life.  "  From  glory  to  glory  "  is  a  good  word  for  this  perpetual  march 
of  the  human  soul. 

I  know  what  consolation  the  religious  heart  of  your  father  and  mother 
finds  in  this,  as  in  other  sorrows  ;  for  great  religious  truths  have  fallen 
into  that  deep  soil,  and  bear  fruit  after  their  kind.  But  I  wish  you 
would  tell  them  of  my  tenderest  sympathy  for  them. 

I  am  glad  you  are  busy  with  the  work  of  the  house  and  the  dairy, 
that  you  can  make  good  bread  (I  think  it  one  of  the  fine  arts),  and  also 
good  butter.  We  lived  (or  stayed)  ten  weeks  at  St.  Croix,  and  had 
never  a  morsel  of  tolerable  bread.  There  are  few  American  women 
who  can  make  a  decent  article  ;  many  of  them  commit  the  (female)  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost  continually,  by  transfiguring  good  meal  into  bad 
bread. 

By  famous,  I  meant  eminent,  which  is  in  your  power ;  not  renowned, 
which  is  both  undesirable  and  out  of  your  control.  I  should  rather  be 
eminent  for  bread  and  butter,  than  famous  for  straddling  about  on  plat 
forms,  and  making  a  noise  in  public  meetings,  and  getting  into  the 
newspapers,  as  many  women  do. 

If  you  can  find  a  school  that  you  suit,  and  which  suits  you,  I  would 
take  it ;  but  if  not,  I  would  make  the  most  of  the  duty  which  lies  about 
me  at  home.  By-and-bye  you  will  have  that  opportunity  to  be  loved 
which  you  wish  for  so  much,  and  perhaps  in  the  most  attractive  of  all 
forms.  But  I  should  not  lightly  esteem  the  purely  affectional  love  of 
father  and  mother  for  an  only  daughter,  nor  cherish  romantic  nonsense 
in  my  head.  The  river  of  life  is  not  all  foam  ;  indeed,  the  froth  -is  a 
very  small  part  of  it — one,  too,  which  neither  waters  the  meadows,  nor 
turns  the  mill,  nor  adds  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  stream. 

Books  will  enliven  the  else  dull  hours  of  winter,  and  both  strengthen 
and  enrich  your  inind,  if  you  choose  them  well.  There  must  be  a 
plenty  of  intelligent  people  in  Concord  of  your  own  age  to  afford  you 
the  company  you  need.  I  see  not  why  you  should  not  be  as  happy  at 
home  as  a  young  maiden  need  be.  The  prose  of  life  is  quite  as  indis 
pensable  as  the  poetry,  and  about  twenty  times  greater  in  quantity. 
The  apple-tree  is  in  flower  a  week,  in  bearing  some  twenty  weeks,  and 
besides  is  still  and  silent  long  months,  but  active  all  the  time. 

Eemember  me  kindly  and  tenderly  to  your  father  and  mother,  and 
also  to  your  uncle  and  aunt,  the  Adams,  at  Boston,  whom  I  both  honour 
and  esteem. 

Yours  faithfully, 

THEODOEB  PABKEB. 


348  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

TO   MR.    AND   MRS.    CROOKER,    TISKILWA,  ILLINOIS. 

Boston,  October  26,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  PETENDS, — Tour  kind  letter  came  to  me  last  Eriday.  I 
thank  you  for  remembering  me  when  so  far  away,  and  often  think  of 
you,  especially  when  I  pass  the  house  you  once  lived  in  at  South 
Boston.  I  did  not  know  that  you  intended  to  leave  New  Hampshire 
till  your  letter  surprised  me  with  the  fact  that  you  were  already  settled 
in  a  place  I  never  heard  of  before.  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  ^ou  have 
escaped  the  financial  troubles  which  now  disturb  all  the  industry  of 
New  England.  We  had  never  such  hard  times,  at  least  not  for  thirty 
or  forty  years:  great  factories  stop  their  wheels,  little  industries 
cease,  and  thousands  of  men  are  out  of  employment.  Where  their 
bread  is  to  come  from  I  know  not !  But  the  nation  has  brought  this 
trouble  on  itself  by  various  causes,  chiefly,  I  think,  by  relying  on  lank 
bills,  which  will  not  do  for  money  in  America,  any  better  than  potatoes 
will  do  for  bread  in  Ireland  ;  but  we  shall  grow  wiser  by  our  suffering. 

I  know  how  much  you  must,  both  of  you,  miss  the  intellectual  and 
religious  advantages  which  you  could  find  in  New  England,  but  am 
rejoiced  to  learn  you  find  so  many  in  Tiskilwa,  more  than  I  expected. 
They  will  grow  up  about  you,  and  your  own  demand  for  such  things 
and  effort  to  create  them,  will  "  help  the  cause  along."  Last  October 
at  Waukegan,  Illinois,  I  found  a  congregation  of  "  spiritualists  "  who 
had  the  same  hymn-book  we  use  at  the  Music  Hall,  and  preached  to 
them  on  Monday.  Some  time,  perhaps,  I  shall  drop  down  among  you 
and  find  somebody  to  listen.  Many  thanks  for  the  kind  words  you  say 
about  my  services  at  Boston.  It  is  exceedingly  pleasant  to  me  to  find 
out  that  my  words  in  sermon  or  in  prayer  waken  so  deep  an  echo  in 
your  hearts  ;  I  am  particularly  glad  to  hear  of  the  school.  The  manu 
script  did  you  good  to  write,  and  so  is  not  lost  even  if  it  never  gladden 
other  eyes.  Believe  me  always, 

Tours  sincerely, 

THEODOEE  PAEKEE. 

Many  thanks  for  the  flowers :  they  will  blossom  anew  with  ine  for 
a  lopg  time.  Let  me  hear  from  you  again. 


TO   THE  SAME. 

Boston,  June  7,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  FEIENDS, — Many  thanks  for  the  kind  letter  from  each  of 
you.  I  attended  the  meeting  of  "  Progressive  Friends  "  (May  30-31), 
at  Chester  county,  Penns.,  and  when  I  came  home  I  found  the  two  wel 
come  letters  from  you  both.  I  know  how  many  material  difficulties 
attend  the  settlers  in  a  new  country.  Money  is  worth  twice  as  much 
there  as  here  with  us,  and  landsharks  prey  upon  the  people.  In  ruder 
days  the  strong  oppressed  the  weak  by  brute  violence  ;  now  the  crafty  do 
it  by  brutal  cunning.  But  the  present  is  an  improvement  on  the  old  form, 
and  a  yet  better  time  is  coming.  The  nature  of  man  shows  clearly 
that  he  was  made  to  find  his  perfect  development  only  in  the  co-opera 
tive  industry  of  a  large  community.  One  man  is  naturally  a  farmer, 


THEODORE   PARKER.  349 

another  a  blacksmith,  wheelwright,  schoolmaster,  captain,  sailor,  trader, 
tailor,  &c.,  a  poet,  a  botanist,  a  preacher.  Each  one  is  helpless  alone, 
but  all  united  together  become  immensely  strong.  You  can't  make  a 
carriage  wholly  of  wood,  or  wholly  of  iron,  leather,  or  cloth ;  but  if 
you  put  all  these  materials  skilfully  together,  how  light,  strong,  conve 
nient,  and  handsome  you  can  make  it.  Now,  what  we  want  is,  to 
frame  the  various  human  elements  together  into  communities,  so  that 
each  shall  do  just  what  he  is  fit  for ;  then  all  will  be  helped  by  each — 
each,  likewise,  by  all.  Mankind  will  come  to  it  at  length.  But,  alas ! 
we  have  suffered  much  from  the  violence  of  old  time,  and  now  suffer  a 
great  deal  from  the  cunning  of  these  times,  and  shall  suffer  in  days  to 
come.  But,  as  you  and  I  learn  by  trial  to  use  our  individual  powers, 
to  walk  on  our  feet,  not  also  on  our  hands,  so  will  mankind,  one  day, 
learn  to  organize  men  better.  The  suffering  by  landsharks,  who  ask 
60  per  cent,  and  take  20  or  40,  is  like  the  pain  little  children  feel 
when  they  fall  in  their  early  stumblings  before  they  can  walk  erect  and 
well. 

I  was  pained  to  hear  of  Dr.  Otis's  death.  I  don't  believe  it  is  natural 
for  man  to  die  at  forty,  but  I  doubt  that  doctor  or  wheelwright  would 
wish  to  come  back,  even  if  he  could.  Death  is  but  a  new  birth — no 
baby  would  wish  to  go  back,  no  man !  I  am  glad  you  liked  the  sermons, 
and  put  them  to  so  good  a  use.  I  will  send  you  more  by-and-bye,  if 
published.  I  thank  you  for  the  handsome  flowers.  The  yellow  lady's- 
elipper  grows  in  New  England,  but  not  common ;  the  others  I  never 
found  here  at  all.  I  know  how  you  miss  the  pine-trees  of  New  Eng 
land,  the  streams,  the  hills,  and  the  rocks,  but  I  hope  you  find  some 
compensation  in  the  fairer  and  more  abundant  flowers,  and  in  the  deep, 
rich,  black  soil,  which  yields  such  wheat  and  Indian  corn.  In  the 
Sunday  prayers  we  always  remember  "  the  dear  ones  who  are  near  us, 
though  yet  afar  off,"  and  the  words  bring  back  the  special  tender  memo 
ries  to  each  one  of  us.  With  hearty  regards — which  Mrs.  P.  joins  in — 
Believe  me,  yours  faithfully  and  truly, 

THEODORE  PABKEB. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Nov.  15,  1858. 

MY  GOOD  PBIENDS, — Many  thanks  for  your  kind  letters,  which 
came  some  days  ago.  I  have  been  confined  to  my  chamber  for  several 
weeks — most  of  the  time  to  my  bed.  Now  I  ride,  or  walk  out  a  little 
in  fine  weather — of  which  November  does  not  offer  much.  I  preached 
yesterday,  and  am  better  for  it. 

I  am  glad  to  find  you  are  settled  so  comfortably ;  that  the  school 
thrives  and  you  find  delight  in  it.  I  think  I  told  you  that  I  began  to 
keep  school  when  I  was  seventeen,  and  continued  the  business,  more  or 
less,  till  I  was  twenty-three.  I  also  loved  the  little  ones  the  best — 
they  were  only  objects  of  affection,  and  could  properly  be  fondled,  and 
kissed,  and  hugged.  But  the  large  boys  and  girls,  with  good  minds, 
were  yet  the  most  interesting.  I  like  the  business  now,  and  never 
was  without  a  young  girl  or  two,  who  could  not  pay  for  education, 


350  LIFE   OF   THEODORE    PARKER. 

till  I  came  to  Boston.     Indeed,  I  have  had  pupils  for  a  whole  year  in 
Boston  itself. 

I  think  you  must  miss  the  green  pines  of  New  England.  In  the 
"Western  States  I  always  feel  the  absence  of  rocks  and  evergreens,  to 
which  we  get  so  tenderly  attached  at  home.  I  shall  prize  the  little  bits 
of  cypress  you  sent  me,  arid  keep  them  always. 

I  don't  wonder  you  miss  the  Sunday  services  of  New  England.  In 
such  a  state  as  Illinois,  where  all  is  new  and  rough, — the  people  more 
rude,  with  fewer  opportunities  for  education  or  enlightenment,  there 
must  be  a  little  home-sickness  now  and  then.  But  it  wears  off;  for 
there  is  an  admirable  power  in  man  of  accommodating  himself  to  the 
circumstances  that  he  must  live  with.  I  am  glad  you  don't  forget  me, 
and  hope  I  shall  never  do  what  will  make  me  wish  you  could.  I  send 
you  some  little  sermons,  which  I  should  have  despatched  before,  had  not 
illness,  all  summer  long,  turned  off  my  mind  from  others  to  myself. 
Believe  me,  always  and  truly,  your  friend, 

THEODOEE  PABKEB. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Letters:  Theological,  Religious,   Scholarly — To  Dr.  Francis— To  Robert  White,  upon 
Shakerism— To  Rev.  S.  J.  May,  Rev.  J.  H.  Allen,  and  others. 


TO   MISS   HEALEY. 

West  Roxbury,  November  29,  1842. 

Press  of  business  has  delayed  my  writing  before,  my  dear  sister,  in 
answer  to  your  kind  and  most  welcome  note.  I  have  been  delivering 
"  Six  Plain  Sermons  for  the  Times"  in  the  Marlborough  Chapel,  Boston, 
during  the  last  successive  Monday  evenings  ;  and  as  each  sermon  occu 
pied  nearly  two  hours  in  the  delivery,  and  only  a  part  was  preached, 
you  may  suppose  the  preparation  of  the  said  sermons  required  time 
and  labour.  To  speak  in  the  style  of  the  Old  Testament,  they  have 
been  a  "  work  of  sweat  and  watching." 

Last  night  completed  the  course,  so  to-day  I  have  had  little  to  do 
but  hear  a  few  scholars  recite  who  come  to  me  to  be  helped  in  their 
studies,  and  to  read  Mr.  Brovvnson's  review  of  my  poor  book,  which  I 
have  not  had  leisure  to  study  or  look  at  till  now.  Now  I  have  the 
evening  to  answer  letters  of  long  date,  and  yours,  my  good  Caroline,  is 
the  first  to  be  answered. 

Don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  hurt  by  persecution  or  neglect.  I  think 
I  can  stand  in  a  minority  of  one,  if  need  is,  and  feel  no  danger,  except 
from  an  access  of  pride.  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  know  that  a 
serious  man  is  not  to  look  to  men  for  his  reward.  He  that  so'ws  to  the 
flesh  "  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption.'* 

However,  I  have  had  the  sweetest  sympathy  expressed  from  some 
very  true  and  noble  hearts,  as  you  know  very  well.  I  am  sorry  for 
your  position  in  the  midst  of  what  you  must  needs  despise,  if  you  had 
not  a  Christian  heart  still.  I  think  it  will  be  advantageous  to  you. 
It  will  call  you  away  from  leaning  on  external  things,  and  teach  you  to 
rely  still  more  on  yourself  and  the  invisible  supporter  of  man.  Ten 
years  hence,  I  doubt  not,  you  will  rejoice  in  a  depth  unfolded  by  these 
very  circumstances,  now  so  disagreeable.  Still  more,  you  will  help 
even  the  bitter  evils  about  you :  a  good  word,  I  fancy,  never  falls  idle 
to  the  ground.  You  or  I  may  not  live  to  see  it  bear  fruit,  but  others 


352  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

will,  and  rejoice  in  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  will  yourself  be  a 
lesson  and  a  beacon-light  of  blessings  to  those  very  persons  whose 
touch  would  be  pollution.  The  sound  man  goes  among  the  sick  to 
heal  the  sick.  It  is  not  agreeable,  but  useful.  If  you  can't  speak  all 
you  think,  the  wisdom  which  you  do  speak  will  supply,  I  hope,  for 
what  you  keep  in  silence.  The  worst  evil,  next  to  separation  from  your 
friends,  perhaps,  I  should  think  would  be  the  presence  of  Slavery.  Can 
you  bear  it  ?  My  soul  has  been  moved  with  the  deepest  indignation 
at  the  very  sight  of  it  for  a  few  days.  But  if  you  teach  the  universal 
benevolence,  the  absolute  justice  of  Christianity,  you  will  be  an  angel 
of  mercy  to  the  oppressed  slave.  Do  write  me  your  experience  on  this 
subject  of  slavery. 

I  told  the  affair  of  the  descent  of  our  nations  from  Adam  to  some 
friends  the  other  day,  who  laughed  heartily  at  the  ignorance  and  bigotry 
of  the  good  folks,  though  they  thought  it  must  be  no  laughing  matter 
to  you. 

What  do  you  do  for  society  ?  Tell  me  about  your  friends,  I  mean 
your  acquaintance :  about  "  the  church,"  and  the  "  minister,"  and  all 
that.  I  wish  I  could  step  in  daily  and  cheer  you  when  dejected,  my 
dear  girl ;  but  as  that  cannot  be,  I  hope  when  your  heart  is  heavy  you 
will  remember  that  you  have  the  sympathy  of  at  least  one  heart  who 
thinks  of  you  when  you  know  it  not.  The  sympathy  of  men  whom  I 
knew  not,  has  often  cheered  me  when  I  was  sad,  though  I  rarely  suffer 
for  lack  of  the  communion  of  kind  hearts.  I  hope  you  will  find  better 
men  than  the  wealthy  planters,  and  will  find  goodness  in  men  and 
women,  as  I  know  you  must  in  the  children. 

Excuse  my  bad  writing  ;  I  have  endeavoured  to  make  it  a  little  more 
plain  than  before. 

My  wife  is  now  at  home,  and  sends  her  best  wishes  to  you.  I  saw 
your  mother  last  night  at  the  "  chapel "  ;  she  spoke  of  having  favour 
able  news  from  you  lately.  I  will  send  you  a  sermon  of  mine  on  the 
death  of  Dr.  Channing,  if  you  will  accept  it.  Believe  that  distance 
does  not  lessen  my  sympathy  for  you,  though  it  forces  me  to  express  it 
on  cold  paper, 

Tours  most  really, 

T.  P. 

TO   THE   SAME,   AT   GEORGETOWN. 

West  Roxbury,  April  4,  1843. 

MY  DEAB  CAEOLINE, — It  is  a  very  long  time  since  I  received  your 
welcome  and  interesting  letter,  so  long  indeed  that  I  fear  you  have 
forgotten  me,  or  what  is  almost  as  bad— think  that  I  have  forgotten 
you ;  but  I  told  you  I  was  a  bad  correspondent  at  best ;  and  all 
winter  long  I  have  been  journeying  and  lecturing  up  and  down  the 
land  in  my  capacity  of  heretic,  so  that  I  have  scarce  had  time  to  write 
a  decent  letter  to  any  one.  But  now  I  can  hold  in  no  longer  and  must 
write  to  you,  if  to  none  beside. 

We  used  to  hear  much  of  the  gentilesse  of  Virginia.  I  hope  you 
will  find  some  of  it  in  fact  as  well  as  fiction.  That  horrible  mildew  of 
slavery ! — I  hope  you  do  not  learn  to  like  it  any  better  than  at  first. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  353 

No  doubt  God  will  bring  good  out  of  this  evil  as  of  all  others,  but  that 
excuses  no  man  for  his  sin.  In  time,  and  I  hope  in  no  distant  future, 
we  shall  be  crushed  with  it  no  more.  Then  how  men  will  wonder  that 
it  was  ever  possible !  how  they  will  praise  all  who  lifted  up  a  word 
against  it ! 

I  suppose  your  friends  tell  you  of  all  the  talk  and  gossip  of  Boston  ; 
but  have  they  spoken  of  two  "  Apostles  of  the  Newness,"  Messrs. 
Lane  and  Wright,  two  transcendentalists  of  the  first  water,  that  Mr. 
Alcott  brought  with  him  ?  They  came  to  set  the  world  right,  and  heal 
its  diseases,  and  supply  its  wants.  One  is  at  Lynn,  expounding  the 
doctrine  of  no  property ;  the  other  (Mr.  L.)  with  Alcott  at  Concord, 
helping  that  gentleman  build  worlds ;  all  these  are  men  of  a  singular 
elevation  of  character,  not  without  a  little  greenness.  Their*  heads 
swarm  with  new  notions,  from  some  of  which  good  will  come :  at 
present  they  do  nothing  but  abstain  from  eating  flesh. 

This  winter  the  Bostonians  have  had  their  usual  treat  of  lectures 
and  concerts.  Dr.  W.  at  the  Odeon  was  not  so  interesting  as  usual, 
they  say.  He  seems  in  a  strange  position  between  the  old  and  new, 
holding  on  to  opinions  which  his  philosophy  long  ago  declared  could 
not  be  held  on  to.  Then  Mr.  Gliddon  "  confirmed  all  the  stories  in  the 
Old  Testament  "  (but  does  not  believe  a  word  of  them  in  private),  in 
his  lectures  on  Egypt.  Animal  magnetism  is  fashionable  just  now, 
and  Dr.  B.  astonishes  everybody  with  neurology  but  the  "  philoso 
phers,"  who  wonder  only  at  his  effrontery  and  the  "gullibility"  of 
the  public.  The  Millerites  think  the  great  quantity  of  snow  in 
Boston  and  the  comet  together  will  burn  the  world  up  in  April.  The 
excellent  clergy  of  Boston  are  about  their  old  work  in  their  old  way, 
and  make  more  noise  in  beating  the  bush  than  in  catching  the  game  ; 
a  most  manifest  hydrophobia  of  ideas  possesses  sundry  members 
thereof.  I  know  not  what  shall  cure  them  except  the  end  of  the  world. 
Mr.  Brownson  has  made  numerous  overturns  in  the  last  year,  exhibit 
ing  curious  specimens  of  "ground  and  lofty  tumbling";  where  he 
stands  now  I  know  not,  as  I  have  not  heard  from  him  for  eight  days, 
when  he  defined  his  position  in  public.  He  seems  tending  towards 
the  Catholic  Church.  God  bless  him,  wherever  he  is !  He  has  a  hard 
head. 

But  I  must  close  my  random  letter,  with  a  hope  that  you  will  not 
let  my  long  silence  deprive  me  of  a  speedy  answer.     Tell  me  of  all  your 
pursuits,  what  sorrows  you  suffer,  and  what  consolation  you  receive,  and 
all  that  troubles  or  comforts  you,  and  believe  me,  ever 
Your  friend  and  brother, 

THBO.  PABKEB. 


TO   MR.    AND   MRS.    JOSEPH    H.    BILLINGS,    WEST   ROXBURY. 

Leipsic,  12th  June,  1844. 

MY  DEAB  FBIENDS, — It  grieves  me  much  to  hear  of  your  affliction — 
so  sudden,  so  unexpected !    I  little  thought  the  last  time  I  was  in  your 
house  that  it  would  again  so  soon  become  the  house  of  mourning. 
24 


354  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

But?  the  ways  of  the  All-wise  Father  you  and  I  cannot  scrutinize. 
We  are  only  to  submit ;  we  feel  they  are  right,  we  know  they  are  good, 
and  lead  to  a  higher  and  nobler  end  than  we  had  dared  propose  for  our 
selves.  I  have  often  thought  that  they  who  died  in  early  childhood 
were  to  be  envied  more  than  lamented.  "  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,"  said  the  great  Teacher.  You  could  not  wish  to  call  the  little 
one  back.  He  has  only  gone,  as  the  birds  in  autumn,  to  skies  more 
genial  and  serener  days.  But  the  birds  come  back  to  our  land,  where 
the  storm  mingles  with  the  serene  weather,  and  must  encounter  the 
darkness  and  the  cold.  But  the  spirit  that  wings  its  way  in  innocence 
from  the  earth  encounters  its  trials  no  more.  It  dwells  for  ever  in  the 
serenity  that  Grod  appoints  for  such  as  die  pure  as  they  were  born. 
You  and  I  cannot  know  just  what  that  untried  state  of  being  is  into 
which  we  enter  when  we  shake  off  the  body.  I  would  not  wish  to 
know  what  Grod  has  put  out  of  my  reach.  But  this  we  all  feel,  that 
the  Infinite  Father  who  loves  each  man  He  has  made  in  his  image, 
will  so  order  the  circumstances  of  the  next  world,  that  what  is  best  for 
each  one  shall  take  place. 

Do  you  know  what  is  best  for  you  ?  No,  nor  I  for  me ;  but  the 
Father  for  us  all.  There  is  a  great  mystery  in  death.  It  will  always 
be  serious ;  but  yet,  after  all  the  tears  we  pour  upon  the  cold  clay, 
there  is  yet  a  satisfaction  in  the  death  of  the  good — in  that  of  a  child. 
The  pure  has  gone  back  to  the  pure :  perhaps,  at  some  future  period, 
you  will  meet  that  child  again ;  no  longer  a  child,  but  grown  in  spirit 
to  a  stature  of  goodness  and  piety  which  we  think  is  not  possible  for 
human  beings  in  either  world.  I  beg  you,  my  friends,  for  your  sake, 
for  my  sake,  not  merely  to  dry  your  tears — for  time  and  the  business  of 
the  world  will  gradually  dry  the  eyes  that  weep — but  to  look  to  that 
everlasting  source  of  consolation  and  strength  ;  and  then,  though  each 
bright  link  that  binds  you  to  the  earth  be  broken  asunder,  you  will  yet 
live  happy  the  life  of  the  children  of  God,  who  lie  low  in  the  hand  of 
the  Father,  and  are  always  safe  and  always  blest. 

I  don't  know  but  all  this  will  seem  cold  to  you,  while  your  hearts  are 
yet  fresh  from  suffering ;  but  I  could  not  help  writing  as  I  have  done.  I 
know  your. disappointment.  I  know  your  heaviness  of  heart.  I  need 
not  tell  you  how  much  I  sympathize  with  you  in  your  sadness.  I  can 
not  avoid  telling  you  of  the  comfort — the  relief  which  comes  also  upon 
the  sorrow-stricken  heart.  It  will  not  be  long  before  you  cease  to  think 
of  your  little  one  as  cold  and  laid  in  the  earth,  but  you  will  think  of 
him  as  a  superior  being — an  angel  of  the  other  world. 

When  I  have  lost  those  dear  to  my  heart,  they  have  gradually  come  to 
take  their  place  in  my  affections  as  beings  no  longer  mortal,  but  puri 
fied  above  the  power  of  death,  and  in  many  a  dark  and  gloomy  hour  the 
thought  of  them  has  come  back,  a  most  welcome  guest,  to  give  me 
strength  and  peace — to  banish  tL<j  darkness  and  the  gloom.  Perhaps 
our  most  useful  guides  are  those  long  deceased  from  the  earth,  whom 
we  think  of,  not  as  men,  but  angels.  When  we  think  of  them,  we  can 
not  bear  to  do  a  mean  thing,  lest  it  grieve  them,  while  it  cheats  us.  I 
know  that  worldly  families  are  sometimes  led  to  religion  by  the  fact  that 
they  have  a  relative  in  the  ministry,  and  they  would  not  wish  him  to 
have  the  reproach  of  ungodly  relatives,  though  they  would  have  had 


THEODORE    PARKER.  355 

no  disdain  of  ungodliness  themselves :  I  have  seen  cases  often  of  this 
sort.  But  I  have  seen  cases,  too,  when  the  recollection  that  he  had 
a  child  in  heaven  has  blessed  the  man  more  deeply  than  he  thought  for. 
With  a  child  in  heaven  he  felt  ashamed  of  anything  not  heavenly  ;  and 
so  the  young  lamb,  which  the  shepherd  took  with  gentle  violence,  and 
in  his  arms  carried  up  the  mountain  to  purer  air  and  fresh  pasture, 
gradually  brought  up  all  the  rest  of  the  flock,  which  the  shepherd  could 
not  carry. 

I  beg  you  to  remember  me  to  your  mother  and  sisters,  and  all  the 
family.  Tell  good  Mr.  Keith  that  I  rejoice  as  much  at  his  last  step  as 
at  alf  the  news  I  have  heard  this  many  a  day. 

Give  my  regards  to  all,  and  believe  me  truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 


TO    REV.    S.    J.    MAY. 

Nov.,  1846. 

I  think  Jesus  was  a  perfect  man — perfect  in  morality  and  religion. 
A  religious  genius,  as  Homer  a  poetical  genius.  I  can't  say  there  never 
will  be  a  greater  man  in  morality  and  religion,  though  I  can  conceive  of 
none  now.  Who  knows  what  is  possible  for  man  ?  If  Jesus  had  lived 
now,  I  think  he  would  have  been  greater ;  yes,  if  he  had  lived  to  be 
forty,  fifty,  sixty,  or  seventy  years  old — why  not  ?  I  think  him  human, 
not  superhuman — the  manliest  of  men.  I  think  him  inspired  directly, 
but  not  miraculously;  not  unnaturally,  but  naturally— inspired  in  pro 
portion  to  his  genius  and  his  use  thereof.  I  think  God  is  immanent  in 
man;  yes, 'in  men — most  in  the  greatest,  truest,  best  men.  How 
much  of  the  excellence  of  Jesus  came  from  organization,  I  don't  know. 
Artists  are  true  to  nature,  it  seems  to  me,  and  give  him  an  organiza 
tion  exquisitely  human — noble,  intellectual,  and  heavenly.  But  I  have 
seen  no  full  embodiment  of  the  Christ  in  art — none  of  my  Christ, 
though  enough  of  the  Church's  Christ.  I  doubt  not,  that  as  men 
follow  the  laws  of  nature,  we  shall  have  nobler  forms,  features,  heads, 
and  so  nobler  men.  We  have  loved  force  hitherto,  and  bred  draught  cattle 
— men  for  war.  May  we  not  one  day  have  a  man  with  the  philanthropic 
genius  of  a  Socrates,  the  poetic  of  a  Homer,  the  practical  of  a  Napoleon, 
and  the  religious  of  a  Christ  ?  Even  Dr.  P.  knows  not  that  it  cannot 
be! 

How  did  Jesus  become  so  great  ?  Who  can  tell  ?  Why  do  you  turn 

to  peace,  to  reform,  to  Christianity,  and to  eating  and  drinking,  and 

to  money-making  ?  What  made  Homer  the  poet,  Bacon  the  philo 
sopher?  Much  is  due  to  birth;  much  to  breeding ;  how  much  to  SELF? 
Who  made  us  to  differ  ?  I  doubt  not  many  men  go  out  of  brothels,  and 
jails,  and  from  the  gallows,  with  more  merit  thau  I  have,  and  will  take 
a  higher  place  at  last  in  heaven  ;  for  they  have  better  worn  their  birth 
and  breeding  than  I  mine.  I  think  God  alone  has  absolute  freewill ; 
we  only  relative  and  partial — a  conditional  freedom — one  foot  booted, 
the  other  chained — that  as  we  live  truly,  we  get  more  freedom,  and  so 
on.  I  can't  think  there  was  a  special  opening  of  the  heavens  to  Christ. 
Each  man's  measure  of  ability  ia  special,  and  for  him;  but  the  use 


356  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

thereof  subject  to  general  laws.  Inspiration,  I  think,  comes  by  universal 
laws.  Just  as  we  obey  the  laws  of  our  being,  we  get  inspiration,  it  seems 
to  me  ;  a  little  being  less,  the  larger  being  more.  I  look  on  Jesus  as 
the  celestial  blossoming  of  man,  the  highest  fact  in  our  story. 

It  seems  to  me  there  is  a  progress  of  man's  capabilities  here  on 
earth.  I  don't  mean  that  man  changes  in  his  essence,  but  practically 
in  his  potency.  We  don't  find  Waldo  Emersons  among  the  Choctaws, 
but  among  the  Yankees.  Let  the  world  have  peace  for  500  years,  the 
aristocracy  of  blood  will  have  gone,  the  aristocracy  of  gold  has  come 
and  gone,  that  of  talent  will  have  also  come  and  gone,  and  the  aris 
tocracy  of  goodness,  which  is  the  democracy  of  man,  the  government 
of  ell,  for  all,  by  all,  will  be  the  power  that  is.  Then  what  may  we  not 
look  for  ?  Hitherto  our  hero  has  been  of  force,  his  symbol  the  sword 
or  the  sceptre  of  command.  It  will  not  always  be  so.  We  are  now 
developing  the  hand,  and  shall  one  day  the  head,  and  then  the  heart. 
All  this  is  conformable  to  Christianity. 

I  think  Jesus  saw  the  great  law  of  man's  nature  and  taught  abso 
lute  religion,  i.e.,  religion  with  no  limitations ;  free  goodness,  free  piety, 
free  thought,  and  free  development  of  man's  consciousness.  By  the 
reception  of  that  are  we  to  be  "  saved,"  and  the  world  saved,  and  by 
that  process  alone. 

What  men  and  women  shall  we  not  raise  up  ?  In  prospect  of  that 
how  little  seem  all  the  "  sects,"  from  the  "  Catholic  "  to  the  "  Unita 
rian,"  and  how  melancholy  all  the  swelling  insolence  of  some  hero  of 
a  coterie — a  saint  in  long-clothes — a  demi-god,  who  at  best  can  fill  a 
surplice!  But  how  encouraging  is  it  to  work!  Men  tell  me  of  the 
littleness  of  men — I  see  it,  feel  it ;  of  their  folly,  stupidity,  sin — I  feel 
that,  and  know  it  well  enough.  But  I  say,  Well,  we  have  had  a  Jesus, 
and  see  what  comes  of  that  Jesus !  I  am* full  of  hope ;  I  see  each  day 
more  good  in  man  than  I  knew  of  before,  and  trust  men  more  than 
ever,  and  am  less  often  deceived.  God  is  in  history,  slowly  getting 
incarnated.  *; 


TO   ALBERT   SANFORD,    ESQ.,   BOSTON,   MASS. 

Newton  Corner,  Aug.  24,  1853. 

DEAE  SIB, — The  article  in  the  Massachusetts  Quarterly,  on  Swe 
denborg,  was  written  by  Henry  James,  of  Kew  York.  Emerson, 
in  his  "  Representative  Men,"  has  given  the  best  criticism  which  I 
have  ever  seen  of  Swedenborg.  But  that  is  not  adequate  to  the  pur 
pose  you  refer  to.  Swedenborg  has  had  the  fate  to  be  worshipped  as 
a  half-god,  on  the  one  side ;  and  on  the  other,  to  be  despised  and 
laughed  at.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  was  a  man  of  genius,  of  wide 
learning,  of  deep  and  genuine  piety.  But  he  had  an  abnormal,  queer 
sort  of  mind,  dreamy,  dozy,  clairvoyant,  Andrew- Jackson-Davisy ;  and 
besides,  he  loved  opium  and  strong  coflfee,  and  wrote  under  the  in 
fluence  of  those  drugs.  A  wise  man  may  get  many  nice  bits  out  of  him, 
and  be  the  healthier  for  such  eating ;  'but  if  he  swallows  Swedenborg 
whole,  as  the  fashion  is  with  his  followers — why  it  lays  hard  in  the 
stomach,  and  the  man  has  a  nightmare  on  him  all  his  natural  life,  and 


THEODORE    PARKER.  357 

talks  about  "  the  Word,"  and  "  the  Spirit ; "  "  correspondences,"  "  re 
ceivers.'*  Yet  the  Swedenborgians  have  a  calm  and  religious  beauty  in 
their  lives  which  is  much  to  be  admired. 

I  shall  always  be  glad  to  see  you  and  hear  from  you,  and  am  yours 

truly, 

THEO.  PABKER. 


TO   MISS   E.    PEABODY. 

I  am  glad  to  be  the  receiver  of  your  sorrows  even,  as  well  as  the 
hearer  of  your  bright  and  kindling  thoughts  ;  though  I  suppose  I  can 
only  sympathize  with  them,  not  remove  them.  Still  sympathy  is  not 
always  to  be  despised,  nay,  is  of  itself  often  a  relief;  so  I  pray  you 
send  the  letter,  if  you  have  it  still.  I  lament  that  your  visit  to  us  was 
so  much  abridged,  in  particular  as  I  wanted  your  opinion  on  so  many 
matters,  and  had  so  much  to  say  that  was  left  unsaid,  and  to  hear  that 
is  yet  unheard.  But  I  trust  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  your  kind 
ness  to  us,  and  that  I  shall  have  yet  many  of  those  "  conversations  that 
make  the  soul."  I  am  sorry  for  the  disappointment  you  met  with  in 
Boston,  but  hope  you  will  be  more  successful  some  other  time. 

Miss  Fuller's  scheme  will  supply  a  defect  in  the  system  of  education 
most  erroneously  pursued,  which  gives  no  instruction  in  the  art  of  con 
versation.  It  does  something  to  instruct  the  mind,  and  fill  it  with  ideas, 
perhaps  occasionally  help  it  to  make  ideas ;  but  certainly  does  little  to 
teach  the  art  of  correct  and  felicitous  expression.  How  dull  it  is  to 
visit  most  of  the  ladies  of  the  best  circle  even  in  Boston !  Their  con 
versation  turns  on  subjects  of  no  consequence,  and  they  are  discussed 
in  a  spirit  and  manner  fully  equal  to  the  subject.  It  seems  to  be 
thought  unworthy  of  a  lady  to  do  more,  or  understand  more,  than 
"  to  suckle  fools  and  chronicle  small  beer,"  or  perhaps  read  a  magazine 
or  novel  that  will  never  excite  a  thought.  Now,  Miss  F.  can  do  away 
the  foolish  notion  that  this  is  the  chief  staple  of  conversation.  She 
will  awaken  minds  to  think,  examine,  doubt,  and  at  last  conclude,  and 
will  set  them  an  example  of  conversation,  for  she  smites  and  kindles, 
with  all  the  force,  irregularity  and  matchless  beauty  of  lightning. 
"  Teaching  should  be  inspiration,"  you  say,  with  deep  truth.  Hers 
certainly  will  be  in  this  respect.  But  to  leave  Miss  F.,  have  you  seen 
Mr.  Norton's  address  ?  Is  it  not  weaker  than  you  ever  fancied  ? 
What  a  cumbrous  matter  he  makes  a  belief  in  Christianity  to  be !  you 
must  believe  it  is  authenticated  by  miracles,  nor  that  only,  but  this  is 
the  only  mode  in  which  it  could  be  attested.  I  doubt  that  Jesus  him 
self  could  be  a  Christian  on  these  terms.  No  wonder  Christianity 
finds  little  favour  with  the  learned — who,  by  the  way,  he  says,  alone  are 
able  to  "  ascertain  the  true  character  of  it,  if  it  rests  on  the  same 
foundation  with  the  Egyptian  and  older  forms  of  religion."  Did  you 
notice  the  remarkable  mistranslations  of  the  German  passages,  p.  40, 
tqq.  ?  They  are  such  as  no  tyro  could  make,  I  should  fancy.  Mr. 
N.  professes  a  great  knowledge  of  the  German  theology  ;  if  so,  he 
must  have  got  it  as  Heine  says  Cousin  obtained  his  acquaintance  with 
German  philosophy,  being  ignorant  of  the  language, — that  is,  by  abso- 


358  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

lute  intuition.  I  have  seen  some  that  thought  the  book  profound,  not 
at  all  one-sided,  just,  and,  to  use  the  phrase,  "just  the  thing."  It  will 
do  one  good  work,  will  present  the  subject  to  the  public  mind,  and  now 
we  may  have  a  fair  discussion.  *'  Come,"  said  the  old  Hebrew  warrior 
to  his  foe,  "  come,  let  us  look  one  another  in  the  face  !" 

I  feel,  my  dear  Elizabeth,  that  I  have  made  you  a  very  inadequate 
return  for  your  fine  and  comforting  letter,  but  trust  you  will  not  be 
discouraged,  but  try  us  again,  and  perhaps  we  shall  do  better.  L. 
sends  her  thanks  and  best  love,  to  which  Aunt  Lucy  adds  hers  ;  mine 
you  may  be  sure  of  always  having.  I  hope  in  future  you  will  not 
fear  to  "  trouble  "  me  with  your  sorrows,  as  you  did  before,  but  will 
write  freely  as  you  speak.  I  will  send  you  books  and  other  matters 
as  you  desire. 

Tours  in  truth, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 


TO  DR.  FRANCIS. 

Boston,  May  18,  1847. 

MY  DEAB  EBIEND, — Catch  Dr.  Francis  a-nappin' — know  something 
that  he  don't  know !  But  it  is  not  so.  He  only  asks  the  question 
about  the  "  Evangelium  Sternum,"  as  he  would  pretend  to  a  little 
child  that  he  (the  Professor)  can't  spell  wall-nut,  just  to  encourage  the 
little  fellow,  so  I  will  be  the  little  boy,  and  will  tell  Pa  that  I  can  spell 
such  easy  words  as  are  found  in  "  Mosheim" !  Know,  then,  most  erudite 
Professor,  that  you  will  find  an  account  of  this  book  in  "  Mosheim," 
Eccl.  Hist.,  Book  III.,  Pt.  II.,  Ch.  ii.,  Sees.  28,  33,  and  34. 

In  the  notes  to  Murdock's  Version  (note  2,  pp.  6-9)  you  will  find  re 
ferences  to  the  literature.  Eleury  also  gives  an  account  of  the  book : 
H.  E.  Tom.  XII.,  Liv.  Ixxxiii.,  sec.  54,  and  Liv.  Ixxxiv.,  sec.  35,  et  al. 
Some  attribute  it  to  John  of  Parma  (sed  male)  ;  Mosheim  thinks  it 
was  falsely  ascribed  to  Joachim  (sed  pessime)  ;  while  Gratze  ("  Lehr- 
buch  Allg.  Literargeschichte  aller  bekannter  Volker  der  "Welt,  von  der 
altesten  bis  auf  die  neueste  Zeit.  II.  Band.  2  Abthlg.  Ite  Halfte," 
p.  25)  thinks  it  .certain  that  nobody  wrote  the  book  but  Joachim  him 
self.  However,  the  Introductorius  has  the  wickedest  part  of  the  matter 
— sin  lying  before  the  door — and  that  was  written  by  I  don't  know 
whom;  but  I  suppose  Engelhardt  has  settled  this  matter  in  his 
"  Kirchengeschichtliche  Abhandlungen,"  for  he  has  a  tract,  "  Der  Abt 
Joachim  und  das  Ewige  Evangelium,"  in  which  you  will  find  all  about 
it — and  everything  else.  Besides  this,  Eabricius  has  something  about 
Joachim  in  his  Bib.  Med.,  &c.,  Lat.,  and  that  very  rare  author  Gieseler 
(Ch.  Hist.  II.,  p.  301)  has  two  notes  about  the  book.  . 

The  "Everlasting  Gospel"  I  never  saw — perhaps  no  transatlantic  eye 
ever  rested  on  its  pages  ;  but  it  was  published  in  the  year  of  grace  1554, 
without  the  author's  name.  Cave  will  tell  you  something ;  and  Schroeck, 
and  then  one  Schmid,  which  is  a  proper  common  name  in  Germany, 
wrote  a  treatise  about  this  terrible  Gospel.  All  these  things  have 
been  printed,  but  the  "  Eternal  Gospel"  got  burnt  up  by  the  Pope,  and 
so,  as  it  went  to  the  stake,  I  suppose  it  will  never  come  to  the  press. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  359 

I  hope  you  will  come  and  see  us  to-morrow,  though  I  doubt  that 
you  can  be  allowed  a  seat  among  scholars,  when  you  are  convicted 
of  such  ignorance !  How  did  you  get  your  degree  of  D.D.  and  not 
know  all  about  the  "  Eternal  Gospel"  ?  "Why.  I  thought  they  held  an 
examination  and  made  the  candidates  repeat  all  of  the  Bollandist 
Lives  of  the  Saints  before  they  gave  them  the  title!  What  would 

Dr<  Q- gay  of  a  Doctor  Dimnitatis  who  did  not  know  all  about 

the  MSS.  which  the  Popes  burnt  ?  I  don't  see  the  use  of  having 
Doctors  of  Divinity  if  they  don't  know  everything  which  is  of  no  use 
to  the  world. 

Why  don't  you  come  and  see  me  ?  I  won't  infect  you  with  the 
plague*  of  heresy,  nor  examine  you  in  the  "  Bibliotheca  Max.  Vet. 
Pat,"  nor  in  the  "  Vitse  Sanctorum,"  but  will  be  always,  and  as  ever, 
your  old  and  faithful  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

12th  March,  1852. 

DEAR,  GOOD  DR.  FRANCIS, — I  have  been  down  to  the  cold  State  of 
Maine  or  I  should  have  answered  your  agreeable  and  instructive 
letter  before.  I  thank  you  for  the  information  about  the  dragon's 
yoke.  Some  of  the  old  fellows  thought  that  Miss  Cynthia  now  and 
then  slipped  her  little  neck  out  of  the  yoke  she  commonly  wore ;  in 
short,  that  she  was  not  «u  w«^$i>oj.  Old  Burrman,  after  his  civil 
fashion,  has  collected  the  learning  on  this  matter  in  a  note  upon 
Claudian,  which,  as  old  Dr.  Homer  used  to  say,  is  "very  rich." 
Milton's  dragon's  yoke  is  quite  modern  mythology,  I  fancy.  I  like 
still  to  connect  it  with  the  quaint  old  palaces  at  Florence  or  Pisa, 

where  I  think  he  saw  the  picture. 

******* 

Really,  my  good  friend,  it  seems  to  me  you  ought  to  be  happy. 
Think  of  me,  hated,  shunned,  hooted  at — not  half  a  dozen  ministers  in 
the  land  but  they  abhor  me,  call  me  "  infidel."  I  have  no  child,  and 
the  worst  reputation  of  any  minister  in  all  America.  Tet  I  think  I 
am  not  ill-used,  take  it  altogether.  I  am  a  happy  man.  None  of 
these  things  disturb  me.  I  have  my  own  duty  to  do,  and  joys  to  de 
light  in.  Think  of  these  poor  German  scholars  in  Boston — poor, 
companionless  exiles,  set  down  in  vulgar,  Tory  Boston,  shivering  with 
cold,  yet  thanking  God  that  it  is  not  an  Austrian  dungeon.  Why,  you 
and  I  might  have  "  glorified  God  in  the  grass-market  "  if  we  had  lived 
200  years  ago,  or  3000  miles  east  of  New  England.  I  have  had  quite 
as  good  a  time  in  the  world  as  I  ever  merited,  and  daily  bless  God  for 
favours  undeserved. 

. .  •  •  . 
TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Nov.  21,  1853. 

DEAR  DR.  FRANCIS, — I  thank  you  heartily  for  your  Servetian  con 
tributions  ;  some  of  them  were  quite  unknown  to  me.  I  had  a  dupli 
cate  of  Mosheim's  "  Ketzergeschichte,"  but  I  thought  you  owned  it, 


360  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

or  I  should  have  sent  it  Francisward  ;  as  it  was,  the  book  went  to  a 
young  minister.  I  fear  it  is  rather  rare.  I  saw  lately  two  copies  of 
Servetus'  "  Eestitutio  "  advertised  in  the  catalogues,  and  sent  for  them 
post-haste  (ed.  1790),  but  expect  neither.  Baur's  books  I  had  not 
heard  of,  but  will  order  forthwith.  What  a  learned  thunderbolt  of 
Hegelianism  the  brave  man  is !  But  how  do  they  write  so  many 
books  ?  Oh,  dura  messorum  ilia  !  Buchat  I  do  not  know,  but  must 
borrow  of  your  library.  Do  you  know  the  "Wertheimer  Bible  ?  What 
a  fool  I  am! — of  course  you  do.  Good-bye. 

T.  P. 

P.S. —  Baur  has  a  nice  analysis  of  Servetus  ("  Dreieinigkeits- 
geschichte,"  B.  III.,  p.  46),  the  best  I  have  seen.  Saisset  is  not  so 
good  as  one  might  expect  after  all  that  has  been  written.  Why  can't 
you  get  some  of  your  young  men  on  their  graduation  day  to  write  a 
paper  on  Servetus  ?  At  the  Unitarian  Convention  at  Worcester  some 
man  proposed  that  a  monument  be  erected  to  S.  One  gentleman 
would  give  100  dollars,  others  objected  :  "  It  would  offend  the  ortho 
dox  ! "  I  am  afraid  it  will  hurt  the  feelings  of  the  Jews  to  have  Paul 
commended. 


TO  THE   SAME. 

5th  January,  1855. 

All  you  say  of  S.  T.  Coleridge  is  abundantly  true.  He  was  a  great 
collection  of  fragments  of  precious  stone,  and  had  such  an  influence  as 
no  Englishman  has  used  for  many  a  day.  His  followers  will  write  his 
books. 

"  Schuchardt "  I  must  borrow  of  you  by-and-by.  Cranach  was  a 
noble  fellow.  I  have  seen  many  letters  of  his  in  MS.  in  Germany — 
some  charming  correspondence  between  him  and  "  Dr.  Martin  "  ;  for 
Luther,  who  wrote  everything  else,  wrote  letters  also.  How  fine  they 

are  sometimes,  though  at  others  coarse  as  Dean  Swift  and  B 

united !  I  have  a  new  "  Life  of  Lessmg,"  by  Danzel,  about  1200  pp. 
8vo.  It  looks  rich. 

That  little  book,  "  Meeting  of  Bayle  and  Spinoza,"  I  never  saw — 
only  references  to  it;  and  I  do  not  know  who  wrote  it.  On  the 
"  Satyre  Menippe "  you  will  find  something  in  Revue  des  Deux 
Mondes,  xxxii.  p.  266  sq.  280  sq.  It  is  a  queer  subject. 

I  have  a  little  volume,  "  Liters  Pseudo-Senatus  Anglicani  Cromwellii, 
E/eliquorumque  Perduellium  nomine  ac  jussuConscriptsD,  a  Joanne  Mil- 
tono.  Impressae  anno  1676  "  (no  place).  Th$  editor  says  he  doubted, 
when  the  MSS.  first  came  to  hand,  whether  "  illas  prcebo  potius  aut  flam- 
mis  committerem"  But  he  spares  them  on  account  of  their  style.  "  Est 
enimforsam  dignissimus  qui  ab  omnibus  legeretur  Miltonus,  nisi  styli  suifa- 
cundiam  et  puritatem  turpissimis  moribus  inquinasset."  Then  follow  the 
well-known  Latin  letters.  I  never  saw  the  book  before,  but  doubtless 
your  eye  had  bored  into  it  long  ago. 

Do  you  know  Caspar  Barthius  ?  I  have  had  his  "  Adversarium 
Commentariorum,  Libri  LX.,"  &c.  (1624),  this  good  while  (mine  was 
Sharon,  Turner's  copy) ;  and  Saturday  there  came  his  "  Juvenilia  " 


THEODORE   PARKER.  361 

(1605),  and  «'  Amabilium  "  (1612),  which  seem  of  the  Johannes  Secun- 
dus  school.  There  is  a  deal  of  learning  in  the  "  Adversaria." 

I  hope  to  see  you  one  of  these  days,  when  you  have  no  scholars  to 
teach,  and  I  nothing  to  do.  When  shall  we  have  one  of  those  brood- 
days  which  we  have  enjoyed  so  much  at  Spring  Street,  or  at  Water- 
town  ? 

.TO   THE    SAME. 

10th  May,  1855. 

I  have  just  been  reading  "  Lambruschini,  Sul'Immacolato  Concepi- 
mento  de  Maria  (Koma,  1843,  1vol.  8 vo),"  which  came  yesterday.  It  is 
funny  to  see  such  a  piece  of  nonsense.  You  must  read  it  to  help  your 
exegesis.  In  Gen.  iii.  15,  the  Mulier  is  Beata  Virgo,  of  course  ;  but 
Cantic.  iv.  7  refers  to  her.  Macula  non  est  in  te  declares  the  Immaculate 
Conception.  The  KSX«|ITW/AI»U  in  Origen.  VI.  Horn,  in  Luc.  means 
formata  in  grazia  (i.  e.,  without  original  sin).  Here  is  one  interpreta 
tion  from  St.  Epiphanius,  Ps.  LXXVII.  in  Vulgate  (LXXVIII.  in 
ours),  v.  14:  "  Et  deduxit  eos  in  Nube  diet;"  the  Nubis  levis  is  sancta 
Maria  nuUo  semine  humano  prcegravata !  In  1830,  at  Paris,  it  was  re 
vealed  to  an  old  maid,  ad  una  Semplice  Virglnella,  that  Mary  was  con 
ceived  without  original  sin. 

I  wish  you  ^ould  read  the  last  page  of  Huntington's  Religious  (!) 
Magazine  for  May,  and  see  what  an  admirable  "  professor  of  the  heart  " 
you  are  to  have  in  Cambridge.  I  think  he  might  as  well  be  made  pro 
fessor  of  the  liver,  or  the  gall,  as  of  that  tough  muscle. 

Did  you  ever  read  Sulp.  Severus  his  Epistles  ?  I  have  just  got 
Le  Clerc's  edition  of  "  Sulpicius  "  (1709),  and  read  in  them  for  the  first 
time.  There  is  one  to  St.  Paulinus  (Bp.,  you  know),  to  introduce  a 
cook.  It  seems  the  saint's  cooks  had  renounced  his  kitchen,  because 
they  would  not  provide  such  mean  dinners  as  he  required  of  them.  I 
wonder  if  the  Bishop  of  London's  cook  ever  repudiated  his  service  for 
that  reason.  And  Sulp.  sends  him  a  puerulum  ex  nostra  ojficind,  who 
knows  enough  to  bake  beans,  to  pickle  beets,  and  make  gruel  for  the 
monks.  He  has  one  fault:  he  is  a  flibustier,  and  appropriates  the 
contents  of  his  neighbour's  gardens,  wood-piles,  old  houses,  and  fences. 
But  as  there  are  failings  which  "  lean  to  virtue's  side,"  he  sends  him 
non  servum  sed  pro  servo  filium. 

There,  is  a  letter  to  Sister  Claudia  on  the  Day  of  Judgment,  and 
another  on  being  an  old  maid,  "  De  Virginitate,"  which  he  thinks  the 

most  glorious  condition  in  the  world,  "grande  est  et  immortals 

vivereque  contra  humani  generis  legem  I "  How  much  such  an  old  fellow 
has  got  to  answer  for,  filling  the  world  with  old  maids  in  the  name  of 
God !  The  poor  devotee  were  worse  off  then  than  now ;  they  must 
wear  no  ornaments.  One  day,  I  hope,  somebody  will  write  the  true 
history  of  what  is  called  Christianity.  What  a  story  it  will  be  ! 

I  have  got  Wolff,  "  Lectionum  Memorabilium  Centenarii  XVI."  (2 
Pol.  1600),  one  of  the  greatest  books  in  the  world — full  of  cuts.  It  is 
equal  to  the  Know-nothings  in  hostility  to  the  Catholics. 

In  Pater  Balbinus,  his  account  of  the  miracles  of  the  Mother  of 
God  at  Wart,  in  Silesia,  he  speaks  of  Copernicus  as  an  author  of  no 


362  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

reputation  or  authority :  "  Stare  ccelum,  et  volvi  terram  credidit  Coperni 
cus,  fahus  sine  dubio  et  nullius  exempli  auctor."  The  reason  why  the 
astute  Jesuit  thinks  the  earth  does  not  move  is  exquisite — "  nam  nihil 
ad  motumpigrius  centra  !" 

TO   THE    SAME. 

Dublin,  N.H.,  8th  August,  1855. 

DEAR  DR.  FRANCIS, — Here  I  am  rusticating  in  one  of  the  nicest 
little  towns  in  New  Hampshire  or  New  England.  Good  Dr.  Leonard 
has  written  his  natural  piety  all  over  the  town,  and  in  all  the  people. 
How  much  a  noble  minister  may  do  for  mankind  in  such  a  town  as  this ! 
There  are  23  copies  of  the  New  York  Tribune,  and  nearly  as  many  of 
the  National  Era,  taken  here.  No  rum  in  the  town,  excellent  schools, 
not  1100  inhabitants,  and  1200  dollars  devoted  every  year  to  schools.  I 
often  mention  Lincoln,  old  Dr.  Stearns's  parish  for  so  many  years,  to 
show  what  a  minister  may  do.  Concord  is  also  a  good  example  ;  but 
Dublin,  I  think,  will  bear  the  palm  from  all  the  rest.  But  why  is  it 
that  such  cases  are  so  rare  ?  There  is  not  a  town  in  New  England  but 
would  rejoice  to  have  such  a  minister  as  Dr.  L.  "Why  is  it  that  we  don't 
raise  that  sort  of  minister  ? 

I  got  from  a  foreign  catalogue  a  copy  of  a  rare  book  ;  you  doubtless 
know  it  well,  but  /  never  saw  it  before,  though  I  have  been  hunting  for 
it  some  years  :  "  Epigrammata  Clarissimi  Dissertissimique  viri 
Thomse  Mori  Brittani  pleraque  ex  Grsecis  versa  (Basilese,  apud  Joannem 
Frobenium,  Mense  Martio,  An.  MDXYIII.)."  I  think  it  was  reprinted 
in  the  collective  edition  of  "  Op.  Mori,"  and  again  in  1635  ;  but  I  never 
saw  all  of  the  poems  before.  One  thing  pleases  me  in  his  iambics,  "  Ad 
Candidum,  qualis  uxor  deliquenda."  You  know  what  interest  he  took 
in  the  education  of  women.  It  appears  in  this  little  poem : — 

"  Sit  ilia  vel  modo 
Instructa  literis, 
Vel  talis  ut  modo 
Sit  apta  literis. 
Felix,  quibus  bene 
Priscis  ab  optimis 
Possit  libellulis 
Haurire  dogmata. 
Armata  cum  quibus 
Nee  ilia  prosperis 
Superba  turgeat, 
Nee  ilia  turbidis 
Misella  lugeat 
Prostrata  casibus. 
Jucunda  sic  erit 
Semper,"  &c. 

Next  time  you  are  in  the  library,  will  you  be  good  enough  to  ask 
Dr.  Harris  to  lay  aside  for  me  the  "Op.  Mori,"  and  all  the  "Lives 
of  More  ?"  I  will  take  them  soon  as  I  return.  Of  course  you  have 
read  "  Campanella,  De  Monarchia  Hispanica*"  It  was  written  about 


THEODORE    PARKER.  363 

1600.  My  copy  is  an  Elzevir  (Amst.  1653,  16mo)  ;  it  is  a  nice  book, 
•wholly  heartless,  though  he  rebukes  Macchiavelli  for  his  want  of  prin 
ciple.  His  view  of  the  state  of  Europe  is  curious  and  instructive. 
He  is  the  first  author  that  I  remember  who  recommends  crossing  the 
breed  of  nations.  I  ought  to  mention  that  the  edition  of  "  Mori 
Epig."  was  printed  from  a  MS.  which  Erasmus  gave  to  Beatus 
E-henanus,  who  dedicates  it  to  Bilibald  Percheimer.  It  seems  from 
the  preface  that  Beatus  had  the  gout  while  it  was  in  the  press.  I 
have  got  Danzel's  "  Leben  Leasing  "  (3  vols.  8vo  !).  Have  you.  seen 
it  ?  It  is  dreadfully  minute,  and  I  do  not  like  L.  quite  so  well  as  before. 
But  he  was  a  great  man  :  the  book  could  be  written  nowhere  but  in 
Germany. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  December  16,  1855. 

DEAB  DR.  FRANCIS, — I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  Hallam's 
works  in  your  library,  and  it  strikes  me  that  they  would  fill  up  the 
place  you  were  speaking  of  a  few  days  ago.  You  were  one  of  the 
lucky  men  who  bought  the  "  Retrospective  Review,"  before  it  became 
so  dear.  I  am  destitute  of  it  still,  but  will  not  pay  the  fancy  price 
now  demanded.  Do  you  know  Walter's  "  Life  of  Sir  Thomas  More  " 
(Phil.  1839)  ?  It  is  curious,  written  from  the  American- Catholic  point 
of  view.  I  doubt  that  I  shall  get  an  edition  of  Thomas  before  the 
public — few  would  buy  him ;  but  I  wish  it  might  be  done.  He  was 
one  of  the  noblest  that  stood  out  against  the  progress  of  religion  in 
England.  How  he  loved  good  letters,  and  the  education  of  women ! 

Yours,  ever, 

T.  P. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Boston,  April  21,  1856. 

DEAR,  GOOD  DE.  FRANCIS, — Your  last  letter  came  on  the  23rd 
February,  and  since  then,  I  have  not  had  a  moment  to  write  a  letter, 
save  unavoidable  notes,  and  have  not  seen  a  streak  of  you  even.  In 
Leibnitz,  I  find  reference  to  a  set  of  men,  whom  I  find  nowhere  else — 
nor  ever  hear  from  out  of  his  pages.  I  had  quite  a  list  of  those  old 
fellows  marked  down  once — the  last  time  I  read  his  chief  things — to 
confer  with  you  about.  But  some  of  the  powers  of  darkness  blew  them 
off  to  limlo  or  some  other  purgatory. 

I  remember  the  Avoxa&Tao-rao-*?  KUVTUV,  but  never  knew  who  its  author 
was.  That  savant  medecin  de  Hollande,  Dr  Beverwyk,  is  a  famous 
old  fellow.  He  was  born  in  1594,  at  (the  same  place  as  the  Synod  of) 
Dort :  but  he  ought  to  have  been  born  at  Beverwyk,  a  little  Dutch  town, 
which  seems  named  on  purpose  for  his  birthplace.  But  he  would  not 
consent,  and  so  made  Dordrecht  immortal.  His  book  is  intitule 
•l  Epistolica  Qusestio  de  Yit®  Termino  Fatali  anMobili"  Dordr.  1634, 
4>to  et  sup.  He  discussed  the  question,  as  I  understand  it,  whether  the 
day  of  death  is  a  fatal  day,  or  whether  the  doctors  can  stave  it  off— or 


364  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

perhaps  bring  it  on !  He  collected  the  "  Opiniones  Eruditorum,"  and 
his  book  made  a  deal  of  noise  in  Dort,  and  (I  fear)  some  of  the  D.D.'s 
let  fly  at  him.  Three  editions  of  his  "Qua?stio"  got  published  at 
Lug.  Bat.,  only  one  at  Dort.  Perhaps  the  bookseller  got  scared,  and 
did  not  dare  reprint.  He  wrote  also  on  Women  ("De  Excellentia 
Fceminei  Sexus."  Dord.  1636,  12mo)'.  But  they  say  he  did  not  write 
so  much  for  the  race  of  womankind,  as  for  the  kind  woman,  viz.,  Anna 
Maria  Schurman  !  That  last  third  of  her  sounds  too  Dutch — write  it 
Annie  Maria  Sherman,  and  suppose  he  found  her  so  sweet,  and  so  pretty, 
and  so  tender,  and  so  dear,  that  he  fell  down — his  heart  full  of  love  to  one 
growing  beautiful  to  all — and  wrote  "  De  Excellentia  Foaminei  Sexus ;" 
and  what  a  pretty  piece  of  medical  gallantry  it  is !  Besides,  he  wrote 
in  Dutch,  "  Schat  de  Geezondheyd,"  or,  "  The  Treasure  of  Health,"  a 
book  said  to  be  translated  into  many  tongues,  and  of  great  value. 

I  have  a  copy  of  "  Tyndale's  Exposition,"  which  I  have  laid  aside  for 
you  the  next  time  I  shall  get  out  to  Cambridge,  whither  I  much  wish 
to  go.  Do  you  know  that  we  are  to  have  Hedge  back  again  in  the 
midst  of  us — as  of  old  ?  Let  us  renew  the  old  meetings  which  were 
so  pleasant  from  1837  to  1842,  and  then  broke  down  and  vanished,  only 
not  "  everlastingly." 

Hoping  to  see  you  soon,  believe  me,  ever  yours, 

T.  P. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Feb.  22,  1858. 

It  does  me  good  always  to  see  even  your  handwriting  on  the  outside 
of  a  letter  before  I  open  it.  How  much  instruction  I  have  to  thank 
you  for,  it  is  only  /  that  know  !  When  I  lived  at  West  E-oxbury  and 
you  at  Watertown,  both  of  us  had  more  leisure  than  we  are  likely  to 
find  again,  and  many  and  many  a  good  time  did  I  have  with  you.  I 
have  walked  in  the  strength  thereof  for  many  a  forty  days  since.  So  if  I 
don't  often  see  you,  don't  think  I  am  likely  to  forget  the  help  I  once  had 
from  your  learning — which  none  that  I  know  equals — and  from  the 
liberal  direction  of  your  thought. 

I  don't  remember  any  rationalistic  explanations  of  the  absurdities  in 
the  Indian  Vedas.  It  would  be  contrary  to  the  genius  of  the  people. 
It  seems  to  me  that  fancy  predominated  over  all  else  with  them.  They 
revelled  in  the  improbable;  the  grotesque  took  the  place  which  the 
beautiful  takes  with  us.  The  scientific-true,  it  seems  to  me,  they  cared 
little  about.  I  seldom  open  their  works  without  disgust.  Their  histo 
rians  lacked  both  geography  and  chronology,  "  the  two  eyes  of  history  "  ; 
and  their  philosophers  were  grannies,  I  think.  Emerson  has  come  upon 
them  late,  and  both  exaggerates  their  merits,  and  misleads  himself  by 
their  lizarreries.  Their  conception  of  God  in  general  was  gross  enough 
and  unsatisfactory,  but  they  had  nothing  which,  for  horror,  came  up  to 
the  Calvinistic  God.  No  heathen,  with  his  "  light  of  nature,"  could 
come  up  to  the  Rex  tremendce  majestatis  of  "  Revelation."  Deus  Damnator 
should  be  his  title  :  deus  damnator  hominum  infantumque. 

Grotefend's  0£?o?  pev  o  nhdruv,  &c.,  I  have  seen  before,  but  I  can't 
think  where.  I  have  tried  to  remember  while  courting  sleep,  but  the 


THEODORE    PARKER.  365 

old  passage  does  not  come.  Yet  I  incline  to  Cyril  of  Alexandria.  1 
have  hardly  looked  at  him  these  twenty  years,  but  have  a  dim  remem 
brance  of  it  in  his  book  against  Julian.  Yet  it  may  be  in  Chrysostom, 
whom  it  seems  like — though  he  snubs  Plato.  You  remember  he  says, 
"  Platonem  quippe  ejecit  [Deus],  non  per  alium  sapientorem  philosopJium, 
sed  per  ignarum  piscatorem  :  ita  enim  et  major  clades  fuit  et  splendidior 
victoria.'"  I  quote  the  Latin  translation,  for  I  have  no  Greek  Chrysostom. 
This  is  from  his  Fourth  Homily  on  1  Cor.,  near  the  beginning. 
****** 

That  other  passage,  delirant  homines  plectitur  ipseDeus,  I  don't  remem 
ber  ever  to  have  seen  before.*  It  is  funjiy.  What  ideas  men  have  of 
the  Dem  I  No  faculty  of  man  has  made  such  blunders  in  its  develop 
ment  as  the  religious.  No  wonder  :  it  is  the  greatest  of  all. 

I  have  many  questions  to  ask  you,  and  shall  get  more  satisfactory 
answers  than  I  can  give.  I  shall  come  and  take  tea  with  you  before 
long,  and  we  will  talk  over  many  things. 

****** 


TO   REV.    MR.    SENKLER,    CANADA. 

Boston,  6th  March,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — What  a  sweet  and  beautiful  letter  you  wrote 
me  not  long  ago !  I  have  waited  for  an  opportunity  to  answer  its 
loving  words.  It  comes  now.  It  is  Saturday  night.  I  have  finished 
my  sermon.  I  commonly  write  it  at  the  beginning  of  the  week  and 
leave  a  page  or  two  for  Saturday  night ;  then,  when  it  is  all  done,  and 
the  last  tear  shed  over  it — for  I  seldom  get  through  without  moisten 
ing  my  ink  a  little  in  that  way — I  put  all  the  signs  of  my  week's  toil 
aside,  and  gird  up  my  soul  for  the  other  duties  of  Sunday,  which  are 
also  great  joys.  How  can  I  do  it  better  than  by  thanking  you  for  the 
letter  you  sent  me  ?  So  kind,  so  tender — it  need  not  be  said  so 
welcome.  I  read  it  with  great  emotion,  with  devout  gratitude.  I  have' 
just  ended  a  sermon  "  Of  the  Soul's  Normal  Delight  in  the  Infinite 
God,"  and  wish  I  could  read  it  to  you  before  I  preach  it,  or  send  it 
afterwards ;  but  I  can  do  neither,  so  only  a  letter  will  get  forward. 

First  of  all,  let  me  thank  you  heartily  for  pointing  out  some  errors 
in  my  books.  In  the  Discourse  of  Eeligion,  p.  65-66,  I  did  take  «Wn 
for  larrlot,  the  Ionic  (though  perhaps  rare)  plural  of  Icrriov,  and  thought 
the  sails  were  taken  by  metaphor  for  the  ship.  I  was  misled  by  the 
authority  of  a  friend  whom  I  once  heard  quote  the  familiar  passage 
and  translate  it  "  ship."  I  think  too  that  I  have  found  the  thing  in 
some  scholion  where  wq  was  put  for  iVr*X  but  I  can't  recall  the 
passage.  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  right  in  making  it  mean  "  house  "  or 
"  family."  I  shall  alter  the  stereotype  plate.  The  other  blunder  of 
putting  Cithaeron  for  Taygetus  I  corrected  in  the  stereotyped  edition, 
It  furnished  an  Englishman  with  a  paragraph  to  this  effect : — "  Mr. 
Parker  is  no  classical  scholar,"  &c.  It  was  Cranmer  and  not  Kidley 
(Ten  Sermons,  p.  233)  and  I  have  been  burnt  in  an  orthodox  fire  fop 
making  the  slip,  and  that  long  after  it  was  corrected  in  an  erratum. 

9  Horace  has  "Delirant  reges,  plectuntur  Achivi." 


366  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

It  is  all  right  in  the  last  edition,  stereotyped.  I  made  the  best  repara 
tion  I  could  to  the  Archbishop  by  preaching  his  funeral  sermon  on  the 
300th  anniversary  of  his  last  trial  on  earth.  The  other  error,  p.  67, 
stands  unconnected  in  the  new  edition;  how  I  made  it  I  know  not. 
But  a  few  days  ago,  or  a  few  nights,  when  I  could  not  sleep,  I  was 
busy  with  some  mathematical  matters,  and  recalled  the  well-known 
formula  of  falling  bodies,  and  then  remembered  that  I  had  in  a  sermon 
once  stated  it  wrong,  and  meant  on  the  first  leisure  moment  to  find  the 
passage  and  see  if  it  was  still  left  as  at  first.  You  are  right  in  both 
the  corrections  in  De  Wette,  Vol.  I.  The  Ji<nrwWrw«  for  Swv*o6f'»»*  is 
so  in  three  editions  of  De  Wette.  I  have  not  Philo's  "  Vita?  Con- 
templat  "  to  see  if  it  be  so  th'ere.  In  Vol.  II.,  p.  32,  fourth  line  from 
bottom,  there  is  a  greater  mistake  than  you  think  it ;  the  whole  sen 
tence  should  read,  "  the  name  of  God  in  these  cases  is  often  a  super 
fluous  expletive,  and  no  sign  that  God  has  ever  interrupted  the  course 
of  things."  The  reference  should  be  to  Eichhorn,  §  422. 

I  thank  you  heartily  for  calling  my  attention  to  these  things.  The 
translation  of  De  Wette  cost  me  a  deal  of  labor.  I  began  it  when  a 
student  of  theology  at  Cambridge,  1836,  and  published  it  in  1843. 
Nobody  knows  how  much  toil  it  cost  me.  I  lived  in  a  little  country 
village,  and  had  a  plenty  of  time,  health,  and  vigor.  It  must  contain 
many  errors,  and  I  am  sometimes  astonished  that  I  did  the  work  so  well 
as  it  is.  It  cost  me  2000  dollars  to  stereotype  it ;  I  have  received  about 
775  dollars  back  again  !  So  adding  my  interest  to  my  principal — and 
that  to  my  outlay  for  books  on  that  speciality — it  makes  a  pretty  little 
sum,  not  to  speak  of  my  toil.  But  if  I  were  to  live  my  life  over  again 
I  would  do  the  same.  I  meant  it  for  a  labor  of  love.  It  has  had  no 
recognition  nor  welcome  in  America — it  served  the  purpose  of  no  sect. 
But  I  must  now  bid  you  Good  night. 

It  is  Tuesday  morning  now  (March  9th)  and  the  newly-fallen  snow 
lies  six  or  eight  inches  deep  all  around — at  least  it  looks  so  from  my 
window.  Let  me  write  you  a  word  or  two  more  touching  your  letter, 
so  full  of  kindness.  I  take  great  delight  in  the  Greek  Classics,  which 
you  are  probably  yet  more  familiar  with — as  your  nice  criticisms 
seem  to  show.  I  read  Homer,  in  Pope,  before  I  was  eight,  and  the 
greater  part  of  Plutarch's  Lives  at  the  same  time.  Latin  and  Greek 
I  learned  early,  and  for  many  years  lived  in  the  noble  classic  authors 
(of  course  the  Bible  was  made  familiar  to  me  in  my  earliest  youth). 
Of  late  years  my  political  duties,  contending  against  slavery,  have  kept 
me  away  from  many  favorite  pursuits ;  but  I  still  keep  my  love  of  the 
classics 'fresh,  and  all  the  best  new  literature  relating  to  them  finds  its 
way  to  my  table. 

It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  find  some  of  my  works  meet  with  your 
approbation,  and  touch  and  soothe  your  feeling  when  so  tenderly  tried. 
Your  mourning  card,  which  I  found  at  my  house  the  day  after  you  left 
it  there,  told  me  of  some  bereavement ;  weeks  later  a  friend  from 
Canada  related  the  special  form  of  the  affliction.  I  wish  I  could  have 
seen  you.  But  I  was  ill  all  the  spring  and  summer,  and  fled  into  the 
country  to  nurse  myself  up  to  vigorous  health  again.  Last  winter, 
1856-7, 1  had  two  parishes,  one  at  Watertown,  where  I  preached  in 
the  afternoon,  and  lectured  eighty  times  in  thirteen  northern  States ! 
Just  a  year  ago  this  week  I  broke  down,  and  I  am  not  quite  well  repaired 


THEODORE    PARKER.  367 

yet.  So  I  do  little  this  winter.  I  send  you  by  my  friend  Mr.  Phillips 
a  little  parcel,  containing  a  sermon  "Of  Old  Age,"  which  I  think  you 
never  saw.  It  is  the  last  copy  I  had.  The  little  pamphlet  on  "  False  and 
True  Theology"  is  only  a  newspaper  report  of  a  long  sermon  I  preached 
— I  have  not  read  it,  and  don't  know  how  well  it  is  done.  The  news 
paper  printed  it  without  asking  me.  But  it  seems  to  have  provoked 
the  wrath  (or  zeal)  of  some  of  my  ecclesiastical  brothers,  who  held  a 
prayer-meeting  last  Saturday  afternoon ;  about  40  men  were  present. 
Here  is  one  of  the  prayers : — "  O  Lord,  if  this  man  is  a  subject  of 
grace,  convert  him,  and  bring  him  into  the  kingdom  of  thy  dear  Son  : 
but  if  he  is  beyond  the  reach  of  the  saving  influence  of  the  Gospel, 
remove  him  out  of  the  way,  and  let  his  influence  die  with  him"  <fec.,  &c. 
The  prayer-meeting  was  called  on  purpose  to  labor  with  the  Lord  "  for 
the  conversion  of  that  notorious  infidel,  Theodore  Parker."  So  you 
see  the  tyranny  of  the  old  theology  is  about  as  strong  in  New  Eng 
land  as  in  Old (I  was  "the  boy  who  sobbed  himself  to  sleep" 

that  is  mentioned  where  you  refer.) 

I  never  saw  the  book  of  Varenus  you  speak  of.  I  only  know  his 
work  on  Geography,  as  Dugdale  has  translated  it.  (London:  1724,  2  vols. 
4to.)  The  extracts  you  so  kindly  made,  are  very  significant,  and  wholly 
new  to  me.  I  have  several  books  on  Japan,  but  had  only  known  this 
one  by  repute.  How  easy  it  would  be  to  teach  the  Japanese  and 
similar  nations  both  natural  piety  and  natural  morality !  How  absurd 
to  attempt  to  impose  such  unnatural  and  hideous  theology  upon  the 
poor  creatures  who  had  nonsense  enough  of  their  own,  before  we  sent 
them  either  Catholic  or  Protestant  Jesuits !  Mr.  Browning,  in  his 
instructive  book  on  Siam,  says  the  people  there  think  God  can't  be  so 
wicked  as  to  damn  men  for  ever !  I  was  glad  to  learn  that  our  American 
missionaries  made  almost  no  converts  to  their  theology  (the  Siamese  had 
quite  as  much  religion  as  the  missionaries  we  sent  them  to  save  their 
souls).  Did  you  ever  read  Mr.  Halkett's  "  Historical  Notes  respect 
ing  the  Indians  of  North  America,"  &c.  (London:  1825,  1  vol.  8vo)  ? 
He  treats  of  the  attempts  to  convert  the  savages  of  your  and  my  neigh 
bourhood  ;  you  can't  read  the  story  without  tears.  I  am  amazed  that 
men  think  they  serve  God  by  such  evil  treatment  of  his  creatures. 
Many  of  his  anecdotes  resemble  those  which  you  copied  out  from 
Varenus.  I  am  -now  studying  the  Indians  of  this  Continent,  intending 
to  write  on  their  religion,  &c«,  part  of  a  larger  work  on  the  Develop 
ment  of  Religion  in  Mankind.  Have  you  seen  a  remarkable  book  by 
Mr.  Buckle,  "  History  of  Civilization  in  England"  (London:  1857)? 
I  have  hardly  space  to  say  how  much  I  am 

Tour  obliged  and  hearty  friend, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

P.S.—Some  ministers  refused  -to  ordain  a  young  man  because  he  did 
not  believe  in  the  eternal  damnation  of  babies.  The  fact  led  to 
discussion  and  clerical  lying  in  the  newspapers.  One  of  the  sermons 
relates  to  the  pleasing  doctrine — Infant  Damnation. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  May  6,  1858. 

Mr  YERY  DEAR  SIB, — Your  kind  letter  came  quite  welcome  and 
instructive.  The  account  of  your  training  in  Cambridge,  [England] 


368  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

makes  many  things  clear  to  me  in  the  character  of  educated  Englishmen. 
I  love  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics,  especially  the  first,  and  in  early  life 
read  the  most  admired  authors  pretty  liberally.  I  wish  I  could  have 
had  the  careful  training  in  the  languages  which  you  both  had  and  con 
ferred  on  others.  But  I  learned  them  almost  wholly  alone — without 
help ;  and  though  I  began  Latin  at  nine,  and  Greek  at  ten,  I  think  I 
never  had  in  both  so  much  help  from  a  teacher  as  you  would  bestow  on 
a  boy  in  a  quarter,  perhaps  in  a  month.  Still,  I  learned  to  read  and 
master  them.  Teaching  these  tongues  forced  me  to  a  more  careful 
study  of  them.  They  have  always  been  a  great  delight  to  me,  and  I 
try  to  keep  up  in  the  recent  literature  relating  to  them,  but  of  late 
years  have  fallen  a  little  behind.  I  see  Mr.  Gladstone  has  got  out 
a  large  work  on  "  Homer  and  his  Times  "  (3  vols.  8vo).  What  nice 
classic  culture  some  of  your  men  have !  Had  I  been  born  in  England 
or  Germany,  my  predilections  for  literature  and  science  would  have 
made  more  difficulties  for  me  to  overcome  than  I  have  yet  found  in 
the  rude  culture  of  America.  By  the  way,  have  you  seen  B-awlinson's 
translation  of  Herodotus,  with  huge  annotations  ?  There  are  to  be 
4  vols.  large  8vo,  very  thick.  He  omits  indelicate  passages !  I  sup 
pose  he  would  in  a  translation  of  Hippocrates  or  Galen.  The  work 
seems  to  me  highly  valuable.  But  Baker's  edition  I  have  found  of 
great  service.  The  new  reprint  of  it  (1856,  1858),  Vols.  I.  and  II. 
(III.  and  IV.  are  to  follow),  contains  the  latest  literature  and  dis 
coveries.  You  ask,  also,  of  Cudworth.  We  Americans  printed  1500 
copies  in  1836  or  1837,  and  sold  them  all  in  five  or  six  years !  The 
American  edition  is  difficult  to  find,  and  not  worth  buying  now.  The 
mistakes  were  not  rare.  Mr.  Harrison  has  made  an  edition  which 
leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  This  is  in  3  vols.  8vo,  published  in  Lon 
don,  1845.  I  think  it  costs  45s.,  but  I  got  my  copy  in  Boston  for 
4  dollars  50  cents.  I  think  it  may  be  had  at  Burnham's,  in  Boston, 
for  that  price  now.  Mr.  C.  published  the  original  in  one  volume.  It 
abounds  with  extracts  from  Greek  and  Latin  authors ;  but  he  did  not 
tell  where  the  passages  might  be  found  in  his  author.  Dr.  Mosheim,  that 
most  laborious  man  of  the  most  laborious  nation,  read  through  all  the 
authors  C.  had  quoted,  and  made  reference  to  every  passage  in  Cud- 
worth's  book.  He  translated  the  original  into  Latin ;  added  notes, 
dissertations,  prolegomena,  indices,  &c.,  and  published-it  in  2  vols.  4to. 
Le  Clerc  introduced  Cudworth  to  the  Continent  in  his  courtly  and 
generous  way ;  and  then  Mosheim  taught  him  the  manner  and  lan 
guage  of  the  learned,  and  he  acquired  a  distinction  in  Germany,  Holland 
and  Prance  which  he  did  not  have  in  England  itself.  The  next  English 
edition  had  Mosheim's  references.  When  I  was  a  youth  at  college,  I 
wanted  to  get  out  an  American  edition  of  C.,  with  all  of  his  apparatus  : 
a  bookseller  had  it  under  favorable  consideration,  when  lo !  the  other 
publishers  announced  theirs  as  in  press.  My  scheme  fell  to  the 
ground.  But  Harrison  has  done  like  a  man  what  I  fear  I  might  have 
done  like  a  boy.  You  ask  about  Strauss  on  the  New  Testament.  I 
think  you  will  admire  his  masterly  scholarship.  He  handles  his  text 
with  the  acute  learning  and  admirable  tact  you  admire  in  the  Eng 
lish  classicists,  but  I  think  has  more  soul  than  they.  Strauss's  idea 
of  God  is  quite  unsatisfactory  to  me ;  so  is  his  notion  of  a  future  state. 
He  is  a  destructive  critic,  but  quite  fair,  and  exceedingly  able.  He  has 
left  theology  for  literature. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  369 

"What  you  say  of  your  ecclesiastical  position  in  England  is  painfully 
interesting.  We  are  bred  very  much  so  in  the  United  States,  in  all 
our  theological  seminaries.  The  rawest  professor  is  taken  for  "  learned" 
by  the  rawer  laymen  who  appoint  him,  and  by  the  youth  (not  less  raw) 
who  sit  and  listen,  and  say  "  Ipse  dixit,  qui  contra  dixerit  anathema  sit!" 
I  remember,  with  horror,  that  I  used  to  sit,  and  see  and  hear  the  pro 
fessor  at  Cambridge  turn  his  mill  for  grinding  the  toughest  or  the 
mouldiest  Hebrew  or  Hellenistic  grain  into  homogeneous  Unitarian 
meal,  which  we  were  to  knead,  leaven,  bake,  and  distribute  as  the  Bread 
of  Life  to  all  who  came  for  food !  He  was  very  conscientious  ;  we  also. 
He  thought  he  was  teaching ;  we  that  we  were  learning.  It  was  neither 
one  nor  the  other.  He  milked  the  wether  and  we  held  a  sieve,  to  use 
an  old  figure  of  Ramus.  The  first  three  months  of  trial  showed  me 
the  folly  of  all  this  method  ;  and  that,  if  I  wished  to  find  the  bottom  of 
the  sea,  I  must  sound  with  a  plummet  and  a  strong  line,  not  with  a 
cork 'and  a  hair.  I  took  Eichhorn's  "  Introduction  to  the  New  Testa 
ment,"  and  prayed  (kneeling)  that  I  might  not  "  be  led  astray  by  one 
whom  some  called  an  infidel,  while  I  sought  after  truth."  I  think 
most  ministers  begin  honest ;  but  I  fear  few  of  them  continue  so  in  a 
long  life.  Surely  they  are  not  more  so  than  lawyers,  innkeepers, 
pedlers,  and  shoemakers. 

I  studied  Butler  once  with  much  care.  But  his  "  Analogy  "  puzzled 
me  with  the  same  inconsistency  you  name  ;  yet  he  still  means  honestly. 
His  stout  affirmation  of  the  rule  of  right  in  human  nature  itself  was  a 
great  step  at  that  time ;  yet  the  admission  vitiates  the  purpose  of  his 
"  Analogy."  If  man,  by  the  light  of  nature,  can  find  out  justice  and 
all  the  rules  of  conduct  necessary  for  the  noblest  life,  it  certainly  is 
rather  a  low  function  which  is  left  for  Revelation,  to  come  and  teach  us 
circumcision,  baptism,  &c. 

But  I  have  purposely  abstained  from  writing  on  the  main  subject  of 
your  letter.  Let  us  talk  it  over  when  we  meet.  But  "  qui  enim  tarn 
sim  vanus  ut  eruditum  erudire,  ipse  minime  eruditus,  prcesumam  ?  "  .  .  . 
You  will  find  good  accommodation  at  No.  34,  Chauncey  Street,  with 
the  Rev.  David  Bead,  formerly  a  Unitarian  minister,  now  keeper  of  a 
genteel  boarding-house.  The  best  hotels  are  Revere  House  and  Tre- 
mont  House.  Please  let  me  know  when  you  will  come,  and  I  will 
secure  the  rooms  for  you.  "With  gratitude  and  esteem,  yours, 

THEO.  PA.BKEB. 

I  sent  you  a  sermon,  with  the  "  prayers  "  of  my  brethren  on  its 
back.  Rev.  Mr.  Burnham,  one  of  the  pray-ers  last  Sunday  P.M.,  in  his 
sermon,  said,  "  Hell  never  vomited  forth  a  more  blasphemous  monster 
than  Theodore  Parker,  and  it  is  only  the  mercies  of  Jesus  Christ  which 
now  preserve  him  from  eternal  damnation." 

The  common  additions  of  the  LXX.  have  Theodotion's  translation 
of  Daniel,  which,  in  III.  1,  reads  as  you  find  and  quote.  But,  in  the 
true  LXX.,  of  which  the  Cod.  Chisianus  is  the  witness,  the  reading  is 
as  I  say  in  pp.  510,  but  I  have  it  not  at  hand.  See  Vol.  I.,  pp.  148,  157 ; 
and  II.,  p.  508.  I  have  no  copy  of  the  genuine  LXX.  version  of 
Daniel,  but  will  look  at  it  the  first  opportunity,  and  see  if  I  represent 
it  fairly. 

25 


370  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

That  word  Rahdb  occurs  several  times  in  the  Hebrew  text  of  the 
Bible,  where  neither  the  English  version  nor  the  LXX.  show  any  direct 
trace  of  it.  The  word  itself  has  given  rise  to  no  little  discussion 
among  the  learned.  Some  think  it  an  ^Egyptian  word  imported  into 
Hebrew.  But  I  think  nobody  has  yet  found  it  in  the  JEgyptian 
monuments.  There  is  a  verb,  rau-hab,  which  means  to  be  fierce,  to 
rage,  to  make  fierce,  &c.  Then  the  noun  adjective,  rau-haub,  means 
insolent  or  proud,  perhaps  fierce.  The  noun  ra-hab  is  a  little  difficult 
to  make  out.  Sometimes  it  means  only  violence,  fierceness,  &c.,  then 
it  is  the  mythological  name  for  uJEgypt,  then  the  name  of  a  sea-monster, 
we  don't  know  exactly  what.  It  occurs  in  Isaiah  xxx.  where  our  trans 
lation  reads  ."their  strength  is  to  sit  still,"  where  ra-hab  is  rendered 
"  strength."  The  literal  translation  is  "  insolence — they  sit  still."  I 
fancy  it  was  a  proverb — but  as  the  writer  was  speaking  of  Egypt, 
which  bore  the  same  name  mythologically  (ra-hab),  I  take  it  he  made  a 
pun,  which  is  now  buried  up,  and  not  seen  often.  The  LXX.  don't  try 
to  preserve  it,  but  read  paTaia  n  Tra^axX*^?  l^u*  avrri.  The  Vulgate  misses 
the  sense  :  superbice  tantum  est,  quiesce.  In  Isaiah  ii.  9,  Rahab  appears 
in  the  English  version,  which  represents  the  Hebrew  text  reasonably 
well.  But  the  Vulgate  translated,  numquid  non  tu  percussisti  superbum, 
vulnerasti  draconem  ?  while  the  LXX.,  like  a  naughty  boy  who  has 
not  got  the  difficult  lesson,  passes  over  it  as  Moses  went  through  the 
Red  Sea,  dryshod,  siccissimis  pedibus,  and  skips  it  altogether.  It  is 
clear  Rahab  is  -ZEgypt  in  this  place,  the  dragon  is  only  a  synonym  in 
the  Hebrew  parallelism.  In  Psalm  Ixxxvii.  4,"  we  have  Rahab  again 
in  English  translation,  where  it  clearly  means  ^Egypt.  But  the  LXX. 
give  the  word  Pa«£,  and  attempt  no  version.  In  Ixxxix.  10,  we  have 
Rahab  in  the  English,  which  seems  to  mean  JEgypt.  But  the  LXX. 
has  Ev  EToe.'irtivtixrcis  v;  r^avfj-urlov  virtgyQavov.  In  Job,  Rahab  appears  in 
ix.  13.  Our  translation  calls  it  the  proud  helpers,  the  Vulgate  renders 
it  qui  portant  orbem,  the  LXX.  has  WTV  to.  in  ov^avov.  This  variety  of 
meanings  shows  howuncertain  the  tradition  was  which  guided  the  authors 
of  the  Greek  and  the  Latin  version.  Ewald,  one  of  the  profoundest  He 
brew  scholars  in  the  world,  says,  on  this  passage,  in  which  he  renders 
Rahab  "helpers,"  that  as  Rahab  is  the  mythological  name  for  a  sea- 
monster  even  when  it  means  Egypt,  so  this  verse  alludes  to  a  legend, 
which  relates  that  once  in  a  great  battle  God  conquered  a  monster,  and 
for  an  example  of  punishment  nailed  him  up  as  a  constellation  in  the 
heavens,  where  it  should  always  give  light  to  the  world,  and  tell  how  vain 
it  was  to  resist  God.  If  this  be  so,  then  the  LXX.  are  not  far  out  of  the 
way  with  their  XJJT*!  VTC  o£gaw,  for  (as  he  quotes  Lach's  dissertations 
on  the  Oriental  names  of  the  constellations  to  show)  X»JTOC,  Tr^'un-n;, 
Balena,  Bellua,  and  Pislrix,  areal  so  constellations.  I  don't  know  how 
far  this  use  of  the  word  would  justify  the  remark  you  refer  to  in  the 
Westminster  Review,  for  I  fear  we  are  not  well-informed  as  to  the  date 
of  these  names.  I  have  long  been  satisfied  that  Job  was  one  of  the 
most  recent  books  of  the  Old  Testament.  Bating  the  spurious  parts — 
Introduction,  &c.,  it  is  wholly  un-Hebrew.  God  is  not  called  Jehovah 
in  the  genuine  parts,  I  think,  and  there  is  nothing  narrow  or  Jewish 
in  it.  The  character  of  Job  is  one  of  the  finest  pictures  of  a  "  gentle 
man"  in  the  whole  compass  of  ancient  literature:  certainly  few  moderns 
come  up  to  him. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  .  371 

How  the  harlot  Kahab  came  by  her  name  I  do  not  know.  By  the 
way,  she  was  not  a  very  respectable  character  to  put  into  the  ancestry 
of  'Jesus,  though  she  is  so  abundantly  commended  by  biblical  and  other 
writers. 

I  think  you  will  wish  you  had  not  touched  on  this  unlucky  subject. 
But  I  promise  I  will  never  worry  you  with  the  matter  again ;  but  L  do 
not  think  she  was  justified  by  the  general  or  special  works  she  is  related 
to  have  done. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  December  9,  1858. 

MY  DEAR,  KIND  FRIEND, — Tour  warm-hearted  letter  came  a  little 
while  ago  full  of  indications  of  a  tender  regard  and  esteem  which 
touch  me  deeply.  I  think  no  man  has  more  generous  friends :  I  wish  I 
deserved  them.  But  I  will  try.  I  have  not  perhaps  been  so  sick  as  the 
newspapers  represented,  and  am  now  a  good  deal  better.  I  did  preach 
the  14th  November,  and  on  the  text  named.  It  was  against  the  advice 
of  all  my  friends,  and  the  doctors  also;  but  it  did  me  good  and  not 
harm.  I  treated  of  Needless  Sickness,  of  Premature  Death,  and  their 
Causes.  I  meant  it  for  myself  as  much  as  others.  Since  then  I  have 
preached  twice,  once  on  the  Progress  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  People  in 
300  Years  —  it  was  close  to  the  300th  anniversary  of  Elizabeth's 
coming  to  the  throne — and  once  on  the  Elements  of  Progress  iii  the 
American  People,  and  the  Duty  they  have  to  Do.  .: 

This  is  the  short  story  of  my  health.  I  have  been  singularly  able- 
bodied  all  my  life,  and  free  from  sickness.  But  in  [February,  1857, 
after  excessive  labors,  I  was  exposed  in  a  terrible  manner  all  night,  and 
found  myself  with  a  pleuritic  fever  in  the  morning.  I  fought  against 
it  for  a  month,  bustling  as  before.  But  in  March,  I  was  obliged  to 
yield  and  give  up  all  work.  The  case  was  not  understood  by  the  doctor, 
nor  treated  well.  An  effusion  of  water  in  the  chest  followed,  which  it 
took  nearly  eight  months  to  subdue,  though  it  did  not  much  interfere 
with  my  work.  In  the  meantime  &  fistula  in  ano  developed  itself, 
and  last  summer  produced  painful  and  alarming  consequences.  I 
lost  twenty  pounds  of  flesh — had  a  cough,  night-sweats,  &c.  It 
looked  like  the  conclusion  of  all  things  here  below.  I  bought  no 
books,  and  did  not  look  over  catalogues.  But  I  had  a  surgical  opera 
tion  performed  in  the  beginning  of  October  last,  and  am  now  gradually 
recovering  from  all  the  evils  which  tormented  me  before.  But  I  had 
a  sad  relapse  a  fortnight  ago.  I  attended  a  funeral  of  a  little  boy 
drowned  by  accident,  and  in  getting  into  the  railroad  cars,  strained  and 
wrenched  both  my  leg — which  is  lame  from  the  fistula — and  the 
abdomen.  This  now  keeps  me  from  walking,  and  will  trouble  me  for 
some  weeks  perhaps ;  but  if  an  abscess  does  not  follow,  there  is  nothing 
serious  in  it  all.  I  think  I  shall  live  to  be  seventy  or  eighty,  but  I 
shall  be  more  moderate  for  the  future.  Pray  excuse  all  this  talk  about 
myself.  I  was  much  grieved  that  your  visit  was  so  short  last  summer, 
and  it  only  tantalized  me  to  see  you  but  a  minute. 

It  was  Miss  Stevenson  who  saw  your  son.  She  is  one  of  the  noblest 
and  most  intellectual  women  I  have  ever  known.  She  lives  with  me, 
and  has  for  ten  years. 


372  „    LIFE    AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

I  am  glad  you  found  Tindal.  He  was  a  great  man,  shooting  so  far 
before  his  age.  Over  one  hundred  replies  were  made  to  his  book  !  I 
read  many  of  them  when  a  student  at  college,  but  they  amounted  to 
nothing.  Abuse  was  lavished  on  him  by  men  not  worthy  to  unloose  the 
latchet  of  his  shoes.  I  thank  you  for  calling  my  attention  to  it  again. 
I  have  not  read  him  for  twenty  years  or  more.  Toland  wrote  "  Chris 
tianity  not  Mysterious,"  which  drew  a  storm  about  his  ears,  and  made 
him  flee  his  country  (Ireland)  ! 

I  have  Mosheim's  Cud  worth  (2  vols.  4to.),  and  will  gladly  lend  it  to 
you.  Did  you  ever  read  Daille  on  the  Eight  TJse  of  the  Fathers  ? — that 
is  at  your  service  too.  "Middleton's  Inquiry  into  the  Miraculous  Powers 
of  the  Early  Christians,"  is  another  book  of  great  note,  once  making  an 
epoch  in  ecclesiastical  doctrine.  Both  D.  and  M.  are  a  little  unfair 
now  and  then,  but  right  in  the  main.  Mr.  Blount,  of  Oxford,  I  think, 
wrote  against  them  both  in  1856  or  1857,  a  great,  thick,  learned,  but 
uncritical  book  on  the  Fathers,  which  would  amuse  you ;  it  contains 

really  some  good  things There  is  a  curious  passage  in  Photius* 

Bibliotheca  (No.  232,  Hoeshel's  edition,)  in  which  he  gives  an  extract 
from  Hegesippus,  the  earliest  Church  historian.  He  was  a  Jewish- 
Christian,  and  hated  Paul.  He  speaks  of  Paul's,  1  Cor.  ii.  9,  "  Eye 
hath  not  seen,"  &c.  Then  says,  'Hyvjo-wjros  pivroi  «^a?o?  T&  awg  %.oti 

...  oiix.  oloot  QTI  xat  TraSwv,  (AOtTnv  /XEV  sigy&Qcti  Totvrct  Xeye»,  xat 
Toy?  tavroc,  Qctpetiovs  TUV  ti  Seuav  ygottyuv  KOLI  rov  Kvglov  \iyovroq 
o$Satyeoi  vpuv  oi  jShewovrec,"  &C.  This  shows  what  Some  of 
the  early  Christians  thought  of  Paul !  It  would  astonish  the  ministers 
a  little,  if  they  could  understand  what  the  apostles  thought  (and  said) 
of  one  another.  I  hope  sometime  to  have  an  opportunity  to  talk  some 
matters  over  with  you  at  length.  I  know  you  will  be  pleased  with  dear 
old  Ealph  Cudworth,  with  his  wide  comprehensive  learning  (though  he 
had  no  criticism,  and  often  was  wrong  in  his  exegesis,  as  all  men  then 
were),  and  with  his  deep  fervent  religiousness  and  genial  freedom. 
His  sermon  before  the  House  of  Commons  I  used  to  think  one  of  the 
best  in  the  language.  Certainly  it  would  astonish  the  Commons  now ! 
I  wonder  who  wrote  the  article  on  Newman  in  the  Westminster.  It 
seemed  to  me  cold,  but  open  and  manly. 
"With  kindest  regards  to  you  and  yours,  faithfully, 

THEODOBE  PARKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Roma,  Jan.  22,  1860. 

MY  DEAB  SIB, — I -have  long  intended  to  write  you,  and  shall  per 
haps  find  no  fitter  place  than  this  to  address  a  scholar  from, 
and,  it  may  be,  no  easier  time  to  write  in — for  a  consumptive  man's 
days  are  too  uncertain  to  count  on.  To  a  man  who  looks  for  the 
progress  of  mankind,  Eome  is  one  of  the  most  hopeless  places  in  the 
world,  for  it  is  the  head-quarters  of  sloth  and  reaction ;  its  religion 
is  despotism ;  the  subordination  of  man  to  an  authority  outside  of  his 
nature,  and  even  alien  to  its  noblest  instincts  and  reflections  ;  nobody 
knows  how  bad  the  principle  of  the  Eoman  religion  is,  and  how  fatal 
to  humanity  are  its  logical  measures,  until  he  comes  here  and  studies, 
and  sees  how  it  works  the  ruin  of  the  people.  But  to  a  scholar  who 


THEODORE    PARKER.  373 

loves  letters  and  a  generous  culture  of  the  arts,  and  a  philosopher  who 
seeks  to  learn  the  great  laws  that  control  the  welfare  of  the  nation  and 
the  individual,  perhaps  there  is  not  a  more  interesting  spot  on  earth. 
The  general  aspect  of  all  things  is  sad,  the  face  of  the  people  (thought 
less  as  they  look)  is  more  melancholy  than  I  have  elsewhere  met  with. 
All  seems  to  respond  to  the  popular  chant, — 

"  Roma !  Roma  !  Roma ! 
Roma  non  e  phi  come  era  prima! " 

I  have  four  pretty,  spacious,  and  comfortable  rooms  at  No.  16,  Via 
delle  Quattro  Fontane,  on  the  Quirinal  Hill,  140  or  150  feet  above  the 
river,  which  is  about  20  feet  more  above  the  sea.  I  live  120  steps 
from  the  ground-floor,  and  yet  I  am  not  one  of  those  poor  poets  that 
Juvenal  speaks  of — 

"  Quern  tegula  sola  tuatur 

Apluvia,  molles  ubi  reddunt  ova  columbae." 

There  is  an  English  family  150  steps  up,  directly  over  my  head, 
where  he  has  the  advantage  enjoyed  by  that  poet, — 

"  Nam  si  gradibus  trepidatur  ab  imis. 

Ultimus  ardebit !  " 

But  I  have  the  sun  all  day  from  rise  to  set,  and  the  whole  city  lies 
spread  out  before  me,  and  the  Ciminian  Hills  over  on  the  Etruscan 
side  of  the  Tiber,  and  I  sleep  secure  in  my  lofty  perch. 

"  Yivendum  est  et  hie  ubi  nulla  incendia,  nulli 
Nocte  metus." 

This  part  of  the  city  used  to  belong  to  the  6th  Regio,  Alta  Semita, 
and  indeed  it  is  the  highest  part  of  the  town :  the  Pope's  Palace  of  the 
Quirinal  is  close  beside  me,  with  its  unprolific  gardens,  which  look 
as  celibate  as  the  Pope  himself  has  vowed  to  be.  The  Temple  of 
Semosanctus  (Dius  Eidius)  seems  to  have  been  in  this  neigbourhood. 
The  Campus  Sceleratus  was  not  far  off,  where  they  buried  the  vestals 
who  had  more  fealty  to  nature  than  respect  for  a  conventional  vow. 
The  T*?  ivroq  T»jf  7roX£&>$  o£fy?  yw^w  •jrctgatTtivovo-ot  troffu  must  have  been  the 

brow  of  this  hill  that  I  live  on.      'EmwJSa  x«Ta<7*£t;a£eTat  xarayHo?  olxo?  ou 

f«Va£  f-xuv  »^tv  xoiToifioKTiv,  &c. ;  but  pleasanter  memories  cluster  about 
it.  There  was  a  temple  to  Salus,  and  I  have  come  here  to  obtain  the 
blessing  if  haply  I  may  find  it.  The  temple  of  Venus  Erycina  was 
near  by.  Extra  Portam  Collinam,  Livy  says,  but  within  the  present 
walls  t  fancy,  not  far  from  the  Via  della  Porta  Pia,  the  favourite  walk 
of  the  priests,  perhaps  not  unmindful  of  the  old  votaries  of  Venus, 
who  did  not  wear  cocked  hats,  and  black  stockings,  and  buckles  in  their 
shoes  when  they  visited  the  same  place.  It  seems  readers  of  poetry 
lived  here  in  old  time,  for  Martial  tells  his  book — 

"  Vicini  pete  porticum  Quirini : 
Turbam  non  habet  otiosiorem 
Pompeius,  vel  Agenoris  puella,"  &c. 

That  mcini  I  suppose  refers  to  the  fact  that  he  lived  not  far  off  (on 
the  Esquiline,  as  my  landlord  says).  I  have  forgotten  the  passage  that 


374  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

proves  it,  and  have  not  the  author  at  hand  just  now,  and  I  never  liked 
him  much,  the  dirty  fellow !  But  enough  of  this ;  I  don't  spend 
much  time  in  identifying  the  old  localities,  which  is  indeed  a  most 
difficult  and  uncertain  work  so  soon  as  you  come  to  small  details, 
and  I  think  that  a  "live  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion."  It  is 
curious  to  see  how  polytheism  clings  to  this  old  heathen  place.  There 
is  not  a  church  in  Eome  dedicated  to  God,  only  one  to  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  all  the  rest  are  consecrated  to  the  Mother  of  God,  the 
Virgin  (conceived  without  original  sin !),  or  to  some  of  the  saints, 
whose  name  is  legion.  The  new  Christian  mythology  drove  out  the 
heathen  one,  but  the  heathen  is  much  the  most  interesting.  The 
deities  of  the  Eoman  heathen  and  the  Eoman  Christian  mythology,  I 
take  it,  are  alike  mythological,  representative  of  beings  who  are  purely 
non-existent,  or  at  least  never  had  the  qualities  assigned  them.  (Surely 
Jupiter  is  a  more  interesting  character  than  the  Deus  Pater  of  the 
actual  Eoman  mythology  of  to-day  !  Jupiter  had  vices  of  passion,  and 
acted  like  the  Evil  One  sometimes ;  but  the  Deus  Pater  is  going  to  damn 
the  greater  part  of  mankind,  and  shows  a  disposition  that  would  have 
made  even  the  old  Titan  giants  shrink  with  horror  only  to  hear  of. 
Besides,  he  does  little,  in  these  times  nothing  at  all :  he  created  the 
world,  and  intends  one  of  these  days  to  knock  it  all  to  pieces,  but  in 
the  pictures  he  is  represented  as  looking  down  on  the  conception,  or 
the  birth,  or  the  circumcision,  or  the  crucifixion  of  his  only-begotten 
son,  or  as  cockering  him  in  heaven.  So  the  Son,  Deus  Filius,  is  a  most 
uninteresting  person,  adoring  the  Father,  or  blessing  his  Mother,  or  (in 
his  human  character)  hanging  his  head,  whining,  and  canting.  The 
actual  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  none  of  your  dilettanti  men,  but  one 
who  took  hold  of  things  with  a  man's  grip.  But  the  mythological  Christ 
is  a  Miss-Nancyish  sort  of  a  nobody  that  I  hate  to  meet,  in  marble,  or 
mosaic,  or  oil  colours.  The  Holy  Ghost  does  but  two  things :  he  broods 
over  the  immaculately  conceived  Virgin  at  the  conception,  and  over 
the  only-begotten  Son  at  his  baptism ;  else  he  is  commonly  as  idle  as 
the  crowd  that  Martial  found  round  Pompey's  house. 

"  Vel  prima3  dominus  levis  carina?," 

to  follow  his  verse.  The  Eoman  Christian  mythology  (and  theology) 
discourages  the  vice  of  licentiousness,  and  so  this  is  better  than  the 
heathen,  but  it  encourages  bigotry,  hypocrisy,  cant,  and  many  another 
vice  which  the  older  Mother  of  Abominations  kept  clear  from.  Yet,  on 
the  whole,  I  don't  deny  that  the  banished  gods  of  Old  Eome  were 
worse,  in  many  particulars,  than  the  new  adventurers  who  have  taken 
their  place.  But  God  send  us  the  good  time  when  Pope  and  Pagan,  in 
fact,  as  in  Bunyan's  grand  fabling,  shall  sit  down  in  the  same  cage,  and 
only  make  mouths  at  the  pilgrims  who  pass  by  on  the  great  highway 
of  mankind !  Oh,  for  a  religion  which  suits  the  conscious  needs  of 
men,  and  a  theology  which  explains  the  phenomena  of  the  world,  with 
a  God  that  is  adequate  to  the  needs  of  science  and  of  instinct  too !  In 
due  time  it  will  all  come ;  but,  How  long,  O  Lord  ?  we  all  say  continually. 
If  you  could  but  see  the  mere  externals  of  this  city,  you  would  feel  like 
Paul  at  Athens,  when  he  saw  the  whole  city  given  to  idolatry.  He 
that  comes  to  fulfil  must  also  destroy ;  and  there  is  no  considerable 


THEODORE   PARKER.  375 

n 

human  development  possible  for  Italy  but  by  the  destruction  of  the 
Papacy.  1,  The  temporal  power  —  the  ability  to  cut  men's  throats  and 
scourge  women's  backs  —  must  cease  ;  and,  2,  The  spiritual  power  —  the 
ability  to  shut  up  the  truths  of  nature  and  science  from  the  eyes  of 
men,  and  to  tie  a  millstone  on  the  neck  of  the  child,  and  drown  him  in 
the  depths  of  the  Dead  Sea  of  theology.  To  this  complexion  the 
Pontifex  Christianus  must  come,  and  then  be  whelmed  in  the  same 
stream  which  righteously  drowned  the  Pontifex  Paganus.  Then  what 
a  relief  will  this  be  for  the  more  advanced  Catholic  nations  !  Even 
Austria  and  Spain  would  warm  with  new  life  !  And  the  Protestant 
nations  also  would  draw  a  longer  breath,  and  begin  to  cast  their  idols  to 
the  moles  and  the  bats,  and  to  worship  the  actual  God  of  nature,  in 
stead  of  that  hideous  spectre  which  now  glowers  out  of  the  Athanasian 
and  other  creeds,  intending  to  damn  them  and  their  babies  not  wet 
by  the  fingers  of  a  priest.  I  said  just  now  that  I  lived  near  the  Esqui- 
line.  On  that  hill  of  old  time  was  a  place  for  throwing  down  the  dead 
bodies  of  slaves  and  poor  people  —  which  I  take  it  were  neither  burned 
nor  yet  even  buried;  but,  as  Horace  says  (Epod.  V.  ad  fin.),  — 
"  Post  insepulta  membra  different  lupi, 
Et  Esquilinae  alites." 

(See,  too,  1  Sat.  viii.  8-12).    It  was  something  better  in  Horace's  own 
time,  for  he  says,  — 

"  Nunc  licet  Esquiliis  habitare  salubribus  atque 

Aggere*  in  Aprico  spatiari,  quo  modo  tristes 

Albis  informem  spectabant  ossibus  agrum" 

The  old  scholiasts  on  Horace  (Cruquius  and  Acron)  give  the  true 
geographical  explanation.  Well,  now,  just  out  of  the  gate  in  this 
neighbourhood  is  a  modern  Campo  Santo,  which  has  500  pits.  One  of 
them  is  opened  every  day,  and  the  dead  —  the  poor  dead,  I  mean  —  are 
pitched  into  the  hole  at  the  top,  and  tumbled  to  the  bottom  "  with 
out  a  grave,  unknelled,  uncoffined,  and  unknown  !  "  Dead  bodies  are 
carried  to  certain  churches  and  left  there  ;  at  night  the  dead-cart  takes 
them  to  this  place,  when  they  are  thrown  in  naked;  lime  is  next 
thrown  on  them,  and,  at  night,  the  pit  is  closed  till  the  time  comes  to 
open  it  anew.  In  the  great  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore,  not  far 
off,  are  two  tombs,  which,  with  the  chapels  that  ^e  but  their  adjuncts, 
must  have  cost  three-quarters  of  a  million  dollars!—  there  is  an  epitome 
of  Christian  Rome  !  You  once  wrote  me  about  the  account  of  Nebu 
chadnezzar's  statue  in  the  Greek  Bible  !  Here  is  the  passage,  Daniel 
iii.,  from  the  actual  LXX.,  as  contained  in  the  Chigi  MS.,  in  the 
Vatican  :  '  " 


TOV? 
yv  TO  in|/o>   ayrri?  rrr^X^v  *%*   xo"   eg^ersv  x.  r.  A.      You  see 


how  much  this  differs  from  the  Hebrew  text,  as  represented  by  our  ver 
sion,  and  Theodotion's  Greek.  I  believe  I  am  really  getting  better 
here  at  Home,  where  the  mercury  has  not  fallen  below  25°.  I  hope 
this  will  find  you  in  good  health  and  spirits,  and  that  you  will  believe 
me  Yours  faithfully, 

THEODORE  PARKER. 

•  A  part  of  the  Agger  of  Tul.  Hostilius  is  still  extant. 


376  LIFE  AND  CORRESPONDENCE  OF 


TO  DR.  JOHN  RONGE,  LONDON. 

Boston,  May  19,  1854. 

DEAR  AND  EESPECTED  SIB, — It  was  with  great  pleasure  that  I 
received  and  read  your  letter  of  the  27th  of  April.  I  was  in  Europe 
at  the  time  of  your  early  demonstrations  against  the  Holy  Coat,  at 
Treves,  and  since  then  have  looked  on  your  course  with  interest  and 
admiration :  but  for  the  last  two  years  have  heard  little  of  you  except 
that  you  were  at  London.  I  am  quite  glad  to  learn  that  you  are  so 
successfully  at  work.  England  is  a  promising  field  to  work  in ;  for 
freedom  is  indigenous  in  the  British  mind,  notwithstanding  a  certain 
insularity  which  often  limits  her  development.  It  is  a  glorious  time 
to  labor  in ;  there  is  so  much  activity  of  mind  and  body,  and  so  much 
intelligence  in  the  people. 

I  am  glad  to  find  that  you  do  not  follow  the  lead  of  Eeuerbach  or 
of  his  coadjutors.  He  does  a  service,  but  it  is  purely  the  destruction 
of  the  old,  and  then  he  roots  up  the  wheat  along  with  the  tares. 
There  are  some  Germans  who  accept  him  as  their  Coryphaeus — atheistic 
men  whose  creed  is — "  There  is  no  God,  Eeuerbach  is  his  prophet ;  a 
body  but  no  soul ;  a  here  but  no  hereafter ;  a  world  and  no  God." 
They  are  much  to  be  pitied — for  the  superstition  of  the  Church,  with 
despotism  of  the  State,  has  forced  their  noble  natures  into  this  sad 
conclusion. 

It  is  natural  for  the  bud  of  new  life  to  crowd  off  the  old  leaf,  but 
not  good  to  tear  the  leaves  away  before  the  time. 

Here  in  America  the  work  of  liberalizing  the  minds  of  men  goes  on 
rapidly.  Science  destroys  men's  belief  in  miracles ;  history  shows  the 
human  origin  of  the  Churches  and  of  the  Bible,  and  while  the  old 
rubbish  gets  removed,  there  is  no  firm  ground-work  on  which  to  build 
up  the  great  temple  of  true,  natural  human  religion.  In  all  the  reli 
gious  sects  of  America,  there  are  earnest  young  men  looking  for  better 
things — longing  for  truth  and  religion.  The  Germans  will  do  some 
thing  to  correct  our  superstition.  But  alas  !  most  of  the  young  Ger 
mans  here  are  Feuerlachianer ;  yet  they  are  more  materialistich  in  their 
theology  than  in  their  lives. 

Here  is  a  noble  Hkn  whom  you  know  well,  Dr.  J.  G.  Giinther;  I 
think  he  first  published  your  earliest  communication  respecting  the 
Holy  Coat.  He  speaks  o'f  you  with  enthusiasm.  I  shall  always  be 
glad  to  work  with  you  on  all  the  good  things  you  contemplate,  on 
both  sides  of  the  water  ;  and  wish  to  make  a  long  arm  and  take  you 
by  the  hand  with  affectionate  esteem.  I  look  with  eagerness  for  the 
books  you  speak  of.  The  letter  you  speak  of  from  your  society  to  ours 
here  in  Boston  will  be  warmly  welcomed  by  us  all. 

It  is  now  thirteen  years  this  day  since  I  first  drew  upon  me  the 
wrath  of  the  Churches  by  a  sermon  "  Of  the  Transient  and  Permanent 
in  Christianity."  It  led  nearly  all  of  my  personal  friends  among  the 
clergy  to  abuse  me.  But  there  were  noble  and  independent  men  who 
said,  "  No ;  let  us  look  at  the  matter  with  our  own  eyes,  and  see  what 
we  may  see!"  It  is  to  such  men  that  we  must  both  look  for  the 
advancement  of  the  true  and  humane  religion. — faithfully  yours. 


THEODORE  PARKEB.  377 

TO  REV.  E.  J.  YOUNG. 

Boston,  May  4,  1854. 

DEAR,  MR.  YOUNG, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and  welcome  letter, 
which  came  last  night.  I  reply  immediately  that  you  may  get  the  let 
ters  of  introduction  in  season.  Do  not  dream  that  my  estimation  of 
a  man  depends  at  all  upon  coincidence  of  conclusions,  theological  or 
political.  One  thing  I  prize  above  all  others,  fidelity  to  a  man's  own 
sense  of  the  true  and  just,  the  lovely  and  the  holy  ;  then  it  is  of  small 
consequence  to  me  whether  the  man  be  a  Jew  or  a  Christian,  a  Catho 
lic  or  a  Tubingen  Eationalist.  Of  course  I  must  love  a  rich,  noble 
nature  more  than  a  poor  and  ignoble  one ;  but  self-fidelity  I  put  first 
of  virtues.  I  trust  you  will  study  impartially,  and  decide  after  your 
best  ability,  not  unduly  influenced  by  the  "  Progressionists "  or  the 
"  Eeactionists." 

I  was  sorry  that  I  advised  you  to  go  to  Berlin,  when  I  looked  round 
and  inquired  who  was  there  to  teach.  I  think  you  mention  all  the 
men  worth  much  notice,  for  Twesten,  I  fear,  is  too  eng  (narrow)  to  help 
you  much,  and  Hengstenberg  is  a  man  not  likely  to  have  a  good 
influence,  intellectually  more  than  morally.  I  thought  Tubingen  would 
be  a  little  too  strong  meat  for  a  Yankee,  though  there  is  the  ablest 
theological  faculty  in  Europe.  I  look  with  amazement  at  the  learning 
and  Fleiss  (industry)  of  Dr.  Baur.  I  was  glad  to  see  what  Guerike 
said  in  his  last  book.  I  will  look  for  Eudelbach's  account,  which  I 
have  never  seen.  I  saw  no  men  in  Germany  who  gave  such  decided 
indications  of  intellectual  power,  as  Baur  and  Ewald.  Ewald  was  then 
at  Tubingen — the  quarrelsome  fellow  !  I  hope  you  will  tell  me  a  good 
deal  about  him  when  you  return. 

Your  father's  death  took  me  as  much  by  surprise  as  it  did  you.  I 
had  a  letter  from  him  but  a  couple  of  weeks  before  his  decease  ;  he  was 
ill,  but  no  one  thought  him  dangerously  ill.  I  used  to  attend  your 
father's  meeting  ;  had  once  a  class  in  his  Sunday-school ;  he  married 
me.  I  had  been  in  his  meeting-house  but  once  after  the  wedding. 
There  was  much  in  your  father  that  I  always  honored  and  esteemed. 
He  had  no  nonsense  about  him ;  was  "  a  scholar,  a  ripe  and  a  good 
one,"  with  wide  scholarly  sympathies,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  think  that 
he  is  dead.  I  miss  him  at  the  book-stores,  at  the  Athena3um.  But  the 
immortal  man  has  gone  to  his  better  world  ! 

I  am  glad  to  see  how  you  feel  about  America ;  our  conduct  is  more 
infamous  than  that  of  Eussia.  You  will  soon  hear  that  we  have 
seized  Cuba,  I  think.  There  will  be  work  enough  for  you  to  do  when 
you  return,  whether  you  come  back  reactionnaire  or  the  opposite. 
Only  be  faithful  to  yourself — then  you  are  faithful  to  your  God. 

TO  H.  C.  BOSTON. 

West  Newton,  3lst  Aug.,  1852. 

The  Law  has  these  disadvantages : — 1.  That  it  exercises  and  develops 
the  intellectual  to  the  detriment  of  the  other  and  higher  faculties ;  2. 
That  it  does  not  allow  a  very  complete  and  generous  development  of 
the  intellect  itself,  especially  of  the  higher  departments  thereof — say 


378  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

the  reason  and  imagination, — but  only  of  the  understanding.  Most 
of  the  lawyers  that  I  have  known  are  examples  of  this  defective  and 
vicious  development.  Indeed,  most  of  the  lawyers  that  I  know  make  a 
mere  money  getting  trade  of  their  profession,  and  no  science  at  all ;  so 
that  with  them  law  is  not  a  liberal  pursuit,  only  a  head-craft,  and  they 
are  only  Mechanics  at  Law,  with  little  more  elevation,  and  sometimes 
less  than  is  law  to  a  handicraft. 

*******  »phe  sarne  onesidedness  which  keeps  lawyers 
from  the  study  of -the  permanent-abstract  of  metaphysics  deters  them 
from  the  permanent-concrete  of  natural  science.  So  they  look  on  the 
arbitrary  statutes  of  man,  which  are  only  a  temporary  accident  of  devel 
opment,  as  if  they  were  absolute  and  fixed,  as  much  as  the  permanent- 
abstract  or  the  permanent-concrete  mentioned  above.  A  statute  is  a 
temporary  rule  of  conduct  devised  to  suit  the  passing  emergency.  The 
metaphysician  and  the  naturalist  deal  with  natural  laws,  which  are  the 
constant  modes  of  operation  of  the  forces  of  the  universe ;  the  lawyer 
deals  with  those  statutes  which  are  the  variables  of  man,  while  the 
philosopher  deals  with  these  laws  which  are  the  constants  of  God. 
But  the  misfortune  of  the  lawyer  is  that  he  looks  on  his  human  varia 
bles  as  if  they  were  as  permanent  and  as  absolutely  imperative  as  the 
divine  constant,  the  laws  of  matter  or  of  mind.  Hence  he  loses  his 
natural  conscience  and  gets  a  fictitious  and  artificial  conscience ;  loses 
the  conscience  of  Nature  and  gets  the  conscience  of  Doctors'  Commons 
or  of  the  Old  Bailey  or  of  the  Supreme  Court.  The  study  of  science 
helps  to  correct  this.  Yet  I  fear  few  lawyers  care  much  for  science. 
Judge  Parsons  was  a  man  of  large  scientific  attainments.  John  Picker 
ing  also — a  quite  uncommon  man  in  many  respects — was  familiar  with 
the  highest  results  of  science.  Both  of  these  were  better  lawyers,  as 
well  as  more  complete  men,  for  this  scientific  development.  I  know  a 
young  lawyer  who  had  to  manage  a  case  of  damages  for  injury  done  to 
cows  by  water  artificially  contaminated,  who  in  preparing  for  the  case 
set  himself  to  study  the  entire  physiology  of  the  cow,  and  so  under 
stand  the  effect  of  poisons  upon  her.  That  was  the  true  way  for  a 
scientific  lawyer  to  go  to  work ;  the  rule  applies  everywhere. 

I  would  not  waste  my  time  on  mean  authors.  I  would  study  the 
masters  of  poetry  before  I  played  with  their  apprentices,'  and  still  more 
before  I  played  with  the  lackeys  of  the  apprentices.  You  see  un 
educated  persons  waste  a  whole  evening  in  silly  talk  about  silly  men 
or  women.  It  is  yet  worse  for  an  "  educated  man  "  to  waste  his  time 
on  silly  books ;  they  are  always  bad  company.  The  books  of  great 
men  will  be  good  companions. 

You  need  not  fear  that  you  shall  suffer  as  a  lawyer  for  what  you 
gain  as  a  man.  Reputation  for  strict  veracity,  integrity,  and  honesty 
would  be  most  eminently  valuable  to  you  as  a  lawyer.  It  would  give 
you  the  best  kind  of  business  of  the  best  men.  I  am  glad  you  are  to 
study  with  Mr.  Charles  G.  Loring, — for  I  take  it  his  moral  character 
is  loftier  than  that  of  any  lawyer,  of  his  age,  in  Boston.'  His  personal 
influence  will  be  good  and  greatly  good.  I  need  not  say  to  you  that  I 
think  there  is  no  real  nobleness  of  manly  character  without  manly 
religion — the  love  of  God  and  the  love  of  man. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  379 

TO   REV.    JOSEPH   H.    ALLEN. 

Boston,  Oct.  29,  1849. 

MY  DEAB  ALLEN, — Tour  very  kind  and  welcome  letter  came  to  me 
some  days  ago,  and  I  have  had  no  time  till  this  minute  to  reply  to  it. 
You  may  judge  of  my  business  when  I  tell  you  that  during  the  first 
five  days  after  I  came  in  town,  fifty  persons  came  to  see  me :  then  I 
have  other  things  to  do  besides  the  entertaining  of  visitors.  But  it  is 
very  kind  in  you  to  write  me  nice  letters,  and  long  ones,  too,  when  I 
am  so  rare  a  correspondent,  though  I  would  gladly  be  a  frequent  one. 
1  liked  your  book  on  orthodoxy  much.  It  has  a  good  deal  of  origi 
nality  in  it.  '  I  wrote  a  little  paper  on  it  which  you  crowded  out :  I  do 
not  like  to  write  on  the  books  of  one  I  hold  so  dear  as  yourself,  because 
I  always  fear  that  private  friendliness  may  mar  my  critical  justice,  or 
else  my  justice  would  seem  unkind.  I  saw  S.  J.  May  a  little  while 
ago,  and  he  delighted  in  your  book.  I  asked  him  to  write  and  tell  you 
what  he  thought  of  it,  and,  still  more,  to  write  a  little  notice  of  it 
for  the  Quarterly,  which  he  promised.  I  saw  nothing  inaccurate  in 
the  book,  and  admired  very  much  the  catholic  spirit  in  which  it  was 
written.  I  understand  the  course  you  propose — your  lectures,  I  mean. 
It  seems  to  me  a  good  one.  You  omit  one  man  in  the  early  age,  the 
greatest  name  in  the  Church  for  many  a  day ;  I  mean  old  brass- 
bowelled  Origen.  He  comprehended  the  liberality  of  Christianity 
better  than  any  one  for  a  long  time.  You  cannot  fail  to  make  the 
lectures  interesting  and  valuable,  it  seems  to  me ;  but  they  will  demand 
a  deal  of  work.  The  practical  affairs  you  speak  of  must  take  up  much 
of  the  attention  of  a  minister,  for  a  part  of  his  function  is  to  con 
cretize  religion,  and  make  the  "kingdom  come"  which  he  prays  for. 
Getting  employment  for  the  needy  is  a  great  charity,  one  of  the  best 
at  the  present  time. 

There  is  another  that  you  do  not  mention — public  education :  can't 
you  do  a  little  for  that  also  ?  Much  depends  on  the  minister,  and  in 
a  few  years  he  can  do  a  great  deal,  with  a  good  will  for  the  work  and 
some  practical  good  sense.  I  take  it,  sentimentalism  is  the  degeneracy 
of  religion.  Thought  and  feeling,  idea  and  sentiment,  seem  to  be  the 
male  and  female  elements  in  religion,  both  of  them  needful  to  beget 
actions.  What  comes  of  mere  thought  or  mere  feeling  is  poor,  and 
does  not  grow  up  or  perpetuate  itself.  I  long  to  see  a  more  real  union 
of  various  minds  in  religion.  We  live  now  in  a  state  of  heathenish 
isolation,  and  lose  half  our  strength  from  want  of  concert.  I  see  not 
why  there  might  not  be  an  association  of  theologians  for  the  advance 
ment  of  theological  science,  as  well  as  one  of  "  geologists  and  other 
naturalists"  for  the  advancement  of  natural  science.  They  would 
quarrel  a  little  at  first,  as  the  Neptunists  and  the  Yulcanists  were 
wont  to  do,  but  soon  the  quarrelling  would  end,  and  Neptunists  and 
Vulcanists  would  both  by-and-bye  cease  to  exist.  They  need  not  call, 
one  another  Christians  if  they  did  not  like,  only  theologians.  At  pre 
sent  the  Unitarians,  we  think,  are  the  most  liberal  sect  in  New  Eng 
land,  or,  the  least  illiberal ;  but  they  do  not  contain  all  the  liberality  in 

the  land,  or  exclude  all  the  illiberality.     Dr. is  more  illiberal  than 

Dr.  Taylor,  of  New  Haven.     I  do  not  attend  their  conventions,  nor 


380  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

would  it  be  desirable  in  me  to  do  so,  even  if  inclined.  They  often  take 
pains  to  have  me  away  from  their  assemblies,  and  certainly  'l  would  not 
intrude  upon  them ;  and,  indeed,  I  do  not  like  to  appear  to  make  them 
responsible  for  doctrines  of  mine  which  they  do  not  share. 

Good  will  come  out  of  this  all.  Men  are  getting  to  trust  reason 
more,  conscience  more,  affections  more,  and  the  natural  religious  ele 
ment  more.  Of  course,  they  rely  less  on  authority,  less  on  the  Bible  ; 
upon  the  Churches  less,  and  less  on  the  ministry ;  but  more  on  man  and 
on  God.  Reverence  for  the  letter  declines,  for  the  spirit  thrives  and 
grows  strong.  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  from  you,  and  will  be  a 
better  correspondent  for  the  future. 

I  am,  yours  sincerely, 

THEO.  PARKEB. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

Boston,  January  29,  1851. 

DEA.B  ALLEN, — I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  in  remembering  me 
in  your  new  position.  I  am  so  bad  a  correspondent  that  I  am  not  at 
all  surprised  if  my  friends  forget  me,  though  I  do  not  forget  when  I  do 
not  reply.  I  have  heard  good  things  of  you  through  Mr.  Applet  on, 
whom  I  saw  not  long  ago,  and  hope  you  will  find  a  more  congenial  field 
to  labor  in  than  at  Washington,  though  you  must  miss  many  things 
which  you  had  there.  The  library  of  8000  vols.  must  come  up  to  you  as 
the  "  leeks  which  we  did  eat  in  Egypt  freely,"  to  the  migrators  out  of 
that  land  of  "cucumbers,"  &c. 

I  should  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  sight  of  slavery,  though  the  imagi 
nation  would  still  haunt  me.  I  know  well  how  much  is  a  mere  matter 
of  latitude;  it  is  so  in  all  things.  How  many  of  the  good  folks  of 
Boston  would  have  become  Protestants  if  born  at  Borne,  or  Christians 
if  born  at  Constantinople  ?  Why,  it  is  not  a  great  stretch  of  fancy  to 

conceive  of  born  at  Constantinople  and  a  Turk,  with  all  the 

accompaniments  of  charity,  hospitality,  and  fatalism.  So  of  us  all ;  I 
feel  great  sympathy  with  slave-holders ;  still,  my  abhorrence  of  the  thing 
is  not  in  the  least  diminished  by  the  remembrance  that  I  have  relations 
of  my  own  name,  in  the  city  of  Charleston  too,  that  are  slave-holders. 
I  hate  the  thing,  while  I  love  the  men. 

I  am  glad  you  ask  me  if  I  ever  said  that  my  present  opinions  or  con 
victions  did  not  give  me  support  in  sorrow.  The  great  points  on  which 
I  differ  from  most  Christians  is  this.  I  believe  in  the  infinite  God,  who 
is  perfectly  powerful,  perfectly  wise,  perfectly  just,  perfectly  loving,  and 
perfectly  holy.  Of  course  He  must  have  a  purpose  in  creation,  a  plan 
of  creation ,  both  perfect  and  consistent  with  his  infinite  wisdom,  justice, 
love,  and  holiness.  This  plan  must  be  adapted  to  secure  the  ultimate 
welfare  of  each  creature  He  has  made,  must  be  perfect  in  detail  as  well 
as  in  the  sum.  How,  then,  can  I  fail  to  find  comfort  in  every  sorrow, 
even  in  the  worst  of  sorrows,  consciousness  of  sin  ?  I  cannot :  I  have 
unspeakably  more  delight  in  religion,  more  consolation  in  any  private 
grief,  personal  or  domestic,  more  satisfaction  in  looking  on  the  present 
or  for  the  future  than  ever  before,  when  I  trembled  at  an  imperfect 
God.  I  never  said,  never  thought,  never  felt  the  sentiment  imputed  to 
me ;  quite  the  contrary. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  381 

Now,  a  word  about  the  philosophical  books.  I  think  Bitter  is  a  dull 
old  plodder.  I  have  his  books,  all  of  them,  one  on  the  "  Erkentniss 
Gottes,"  not  much  known  in  America,  nor  much  worth  knowing.  Still, 
let  us  eat  his  meat  with  thankfulness  of  heart ;  who  else  would  give  us 
an  analysis  of  Albertus  Magnus,  of  heaps  of  schoolmen,  and  write  for 
us  ten  volumes  of  "  Geschichte  der  Philosophic."  I  felt  the  want  you 
complain  of,  and  know  not  how  to  make  up  for  it :  the  best  way,  per 
haps,  is  to  read  "  Colebrooke  "  or  "  Windischman,"  and  "Schlegel  on 
the  Indian  Philosophy."  But  you  don't  get  much  that  is  satisfactory. 
We  are  a  little  too  early  to  learn  the  Hindoo  philosophy.  Ten  years 
hence  it  will  be  easier.  Bernouf  is  at  work  on  something  (Hist. 
Buddhism),  that  will  help  a  good  deal. 

But  Greece,  after  all,  is  the  country  where  spiritual  individuality  got  on 
its  legs  for  the  first  time,  and  though  Socrates  believed  Helios  was  a  God, 
and  not  a  "  mass  of  iron  red-hot,"  yet  his  contemporaries  did  common 
service  for  us  in  daring  to  think :  Pythagoras,  Anaxagoras,  Hippocrates, 
even  Theodorus,  did  us  great  service.  I  am  glad  you  are  studying  this 
matter  thoroughly,  taking  notes.  The  study  of  the  Greek  philosophers 
was  a  great  help  to  me  when  in  the  Theological  School ;  but  I  was  too 
much  of  a  blunderer  to  do  the  work  well  at  that  time,  and  the  road  was 
not  so  well  turnpiked  as  it  is  now.  I  honor  your  spirit,  and  love  your 
brave,  good  heart.  If  I  can  ever  help  you  by  lending  a  book,  you  know 
it  will  give  me  pleasure.  Why  not  read  Grote's  Vol.  I.  and  VIII.  in 
connection  with  Hitter  ?  Both  are  of  much  value  m  this  matter.  I  shall 
read  your  article  on  "  Comte  "  with  pleasure.  I  could  not  give  you 
any  hints  about  him,  only  can  say  that  he  is  able,  dull,  materialistic,  and 
ill-natured,  and  has  made  a  book  of  sterling  merit.  But  what  a  pity  he 
can't  get  out  of  his  more  material  phrenology ! 

Remember  me  kindly  to  any  friends  I  may  have  in  Bangor. 

Yours  truly, 
T.  P. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  May  5,  1851. 

DEAB,  ALLEN, — I  have  not  time  to  write  you  a  long  letter,  but  will 
say  that  I  am  satisfied  from  your  letter,  that  I  was  misinformed  about  you 
and  your  doings  and  sayings  at  Bangor.  I  never  named  my  suspicions 
to  anyone ;  but  all  I  ask  of  a  man  is  to  be  true  to  his  own  conscience, 
and  take  all  pains  to  develope  that  conscience.  He  is  to  be  faithful  to 
himself,  not  to  another  man's  self.  Still,  I  admit  the  possibility  of  a  man's 
being  false  to  himself,  of  his  violating  his  own  conscience  ;  and  I  think 
this  is  a  common  occurrence — a  very  common  one  with  ministers,  and,  I 
fear,  more  common  with  Unitarian  ministers  than  others.  For,  as  a 
general  thing,  the  Unitarian  ministers  have  ideas  in  advance  of  the 
Orthodox  ministers,  while  they  have,  generally,  congregations  more 
mammonish,  hunkerish,  and  worldly,  than  the  Orthodox  congregations. 

Then,  I  think  the  ministers  take  counsel,  not  of  God,  but  of  the  con 
gregation,  and  turn  out  such  men  as  —  and ,  et  id  genus  omne. 

Now,  these  men  may  be  faithful  to  their  conscience :  it  is  not  for  me  to 
say  they  are  not.  I  never  said  that  of  any  man. 


382  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

I  have  been  told  that  I  stabbed  everything  I  ever  touched.  Once  I 
"  stabbed  "  rel-igion,  then  Christianity,  then  Unitarianism,  then  educa 
tion,  temperance,  peace,  prison  discipline. 

Still  they  all  live  after  their  "  deadly  wound." 

Yours  truly,  T.  P. 


TO   THE    SAME. 

Brookline,  Aug.  1,  1851. 

Mr  DEAR  ALLEN, — I  read  your  paper  before  I  read  your  letter.  It 
is  a  grand  paper,  the  best  thing  you  have  done  as  yet.  I  see  in  the 
critical  part  of  it  the  influence  of  Comte  and  Gfrorer,  two  able  helps. 
I  have  no  criticism  to  make  on  that  part, — the  two  first  books  of  your 
discourse, — only  to  say  that  I  think  there  is  no  man  in  the  Unitarian 
denomination  who  would  not  be  honored  by  writing  it.  The  third 
part  seemed  to  me  not  quite  equal  to  the  preceding,  not  conceived  with 
so  much  vigor,  nor  expressed  with  so  much  scientific  sharpness.  I 
don't  think  it  goes  quite  down  to  the  deeps  of  the  matter.  The  short 
of  the  matter,  i  think,  is  this :  the  old  theology,  all  previous  theology, 
has  been  bottomed  on  the  idea  of  an  imperfect  God,  not  always  im 
perfect  in  povver,  but  in  wisdom,. in  justice,  in  love,  or  in  holiness — 
commonly  in  all  four.  There  is  a  Devil  as  the  Fourth  Person  of  the 
Godhead  in  the  common  theology.  In  some  schemes  he  is  the  First 
Person.  Hence,  there  is  a  personal  Devil  wlio  is  a  creation  of  God. 
Of  course,  God  must  have  created  the  Devil  out  of  his  (God's)  own 
substance,  so  there  must  have  been  a  devilish  element  in  God  at  the 
beginning.  Others  say  there  is  no  personal  Devil,  but  yet  must  admit 
the  devilish  in  God ;  for  they  believe  there  is  absolute  evil  in  the  world. 
Hence,  they  have  a  hell,  not  as  a  hospital  built  by  the  Divine  as  house 
of  care,  but  as  a  rack  chamber,  or  torture  cellar,  built  by  the  devilish 
as  a  place  of  torment  and  vengeance.  Now,  I  take  it  that  philosophy 
(physics  and  metaphysics)  is  at  war  with  the  Devil-god,  but  not  also 
with  the  God-god.  Philosophy  believes  in  no  Devil,  neither  in  God  nor 
out  of  Him.  Hugh  Miller  finds  "  footprints  of  the  Devil  in  the  old  red 
sandstone ;"  they  will  turn  out  very  different  tracks.  The  time  has 
come  for  affirming  the  infinity  of  God  by  his  attributes  as  well  as  by 
his  essence.  Men  have  said  God  is  infinite  in  nature  (Seyn),  but  de 
nied  it  when  they  came  to  treat  of  his  function  and  modes  of  being 
(Daseyri).  The  future  theology  must  rest  on  the  idea  that  God  is  per 
fect  in  power,  wisdom,  justice,  love,  and  holiness  (self-fidelity),  then  it 
may  be  a  scientific  theology.  Sometimes  the  expression  in  your  writing 
is  vague,  and  so  the  thought  difficult  to  grasp.  A  German  writer  would 
not  make  this  objection  to  you,  for  he  loves  the  vague  clouds  he 
breathes  from  his  own  tobacco-pipe.  Perhaps  Comte  is  not  likely  to 
have  a  good  influence  on  your  style.  With  these  exceptions  I  like 
your  paper  very  much,  and  wish  the  Massachusetts  Quarterly  were  alive 
to  publish  it  to  the  world. 

1  like  your  scheme  of  Hebrew  lectures.  The  patriarchs,  I  think  we 
know  very  little  about.  I  don't  know  whether  you  consider  them  his 
torical  or  mythical.  I  have  only  one  book  which  you  need,  that  is 


THEODORE    PARKER.       .  383 

Ewald's  "  Geschichte  des  Yolkes  Israel,"  4  vols.  8vo.  If  you  like  that, 
it  is  at  your  service.  Knobel  would  help  you  on  the  Prophets.  I  have 
most  of  "the  books  Mackay  refers  to  in  his  "  Progress  of  the  Intellect." 
The  misinformation  was  that  you  preached  "  an  old  Hunker  sermon 
denying  the  higher  law." 

Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PAKKEK. 


TO   ROBERT   WHITE,    NEW   YORK. 

Boston,  Feb.  11,  1848. 

DEAB,  FEIEND, — Tour  letter  of  the  25th  ult.  came  to  me  a  few  days 
ago,  accompanied  by  J.  Dunlary's  manifesto.  I  feel  glad  that  you  can 
approve  something  which  I  have  written  about  religion,  and  also  I  re 
joice  to  hear  of  another  man  who  loves  the  freedom  of  the  truth.  I 
think  I  understand  the  doctrines  of  the  Shakers.  I  am  not  wholly 
ignorant  of  the  books  they  have  issued,  which  set  forth  their  history 
and  their  opinions.  I  have  always  admired  the  order,  the  neatness, 
the  economy,  the  plenty,  and  the  peace  which  are  so  noticeable  in  their 
establishments.  I  rejoice  to  confess  that  they  have  solved  the  problem 
of  association,  at  least  so  far  as  to  show  that  men  can  live  harmoniously 
in  a  community,  and  thereby  make  a  great  saving  of  time,  labor,  and 
all  the  material  things  which  help  to  make  up  the  comforts  of  life. 
But  you  will  excuse  me  for  my  frankness  when  I  say  that  I  think  they 
have  made  a  capital  mistake  in  attempting  to  nullify  the -distinction  of 
sex :  that  is  not  a  distinction  of  man's  making,  but  of  man's  finding  as 
God  made  it.  From  that  distinction  there  comes  the  union  of  one 
man  and  one  woman,  united  by  the  most  sacred  and  most  beautiful  and 
endearing  ties.  Each  is  a  complement  to  the  other.  Out  of  their 
union  grows  up  the  family — each  new-born  child  to  them  a  new 
Messiah,  a  new  revelation  from  God.  I  admire  the  wondrous  ways  of 
God.  I  reverence  his  wisdom,  I  love  his  love,  as  I  find  this  everywhere. 
But  I  see  nowhere  more  lovely  instances  thereof  than  in  the  very  dis 
tinction  of  sex,  and  the  effects  which  grow  out  of  that  cause ;  yet  I 
think  I  see  the  causes  which  led  the  founders  of  the  Shakers  to  re 
nounce  all  this.  I  know,  too,  the  history  of  similar  parties  in  other 
days,  arid  the  doctrine  which  led  them  also  to  renounce  marriage. 

One  thing  more  let  me  mention,  and  that  is,  the  neglect  of  educa 
tion  in  the  establishments  of  your  friends.  You  are  a  man  of  cultiva 
tion  :  it  is  evident  the  men  who  transact  the  business  of  the  societies, 
and  come  in  contact  with  the  world  likewise  get  some  culture.  But  I 
have  looked  with  great  pain  on  the  countenances  of  the  young  men  and 
women  that  I  have  seen  in  Shaker  settlements  ;  they  look  so  ignorant, 
so  undeveloped,  so  clownish,  and  sometimes  stupid  and  almost  animal. 
Excuse  me,  my  friend,  for  mentioning  these  things ;  think  not  that  I  do 
not  honor  the  much  of  good  that  is  in  your  friends,  because  I  point 
put  what  seem  to  me  the  evils.  God  gave  us  many  faculties,  all  good 
in  their  place ;  certainly  all  good  when  acting  in  harmony,  and  each  in  its 
proportion.  The  problem  of  life  is  to  tune  all  these  strings  to  harmony. 


384  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

Now  I  think  the  Shakers  found  one  or  two  strings  a  little  difficult  to 
tune,  and  so  they  broke  them  off;  then  they  tuned  the  rest  quite  well. 
Still  the  cords  broken  off  were  wanted.  So  the  Shaker  music  is  not  yet 
the  whole  human  hymn.  Excuse  me  for  writing  this  long  letter,  and 
believe  me,  truly  your  friend,  THEO.  PARKER. 


TO   THE  SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  July  31,  1848. 

DEAR  FRIEND, — I  received  the  other  day  a  copy  of  the  Knickerbocker, 
which  reminded  me  that  I  have  long  been  remiss  in  not  replying  to 
your  kind  letter,  received  a  great  while  ago.  They  who  are  good  at 
excuses  are  commonly  good  at  nothing  else,  so  I  will  not  try  and  excuse 
my  silence, — only  will  break  it  now,  and  thank  you  for  that  letter 
as  well  as  other  favors,  and  also  for  the  magazine,  and  the  inte 
resting  notice  of  a  visit  to  New  Lebanon.  What  you  said  in 
your  last  note  about  the  superiority  of  the  domestic  economy  of  the 
'Shakers,  I  am  not  only  ready  but  happy  to  admit.  Certainly,  you  have 
no  menial  service — none  of  your  community  think  work  is  degrading  ; 
while,  in  society  at  large,  many  men  are  ashamed  of  work,  and,  of 
course,  ashamed  of  men  (and  women)  who  work,  and  make  them 
ashamed  of  themselves.  Now,  the  Shakers  have  completely  done  away 
with  that  evil,  as  it  seems  to  me ;  that  is  one  of  their  great  merits,  and 
it  is  a  very  great  one.  At  the  same  time,  they  secure  comfort,  and  even 
wealth  ;  the  only  charge  that  I  can  bring  against  them  is  that  of  the 
neglect  of  marriage.  In  an  argument  you  would  very  likely  say  a  great 
many  things  against  marriage,  and  all  connection  between  the  sexes  ;  but 
still,  the  fact  remains  that  Grod  created  men  and  women,  and  left  the 
perpetuation  of  the  race  to  the  union  of  the  two,  doubtless  intend 
ing  that  marriage — of  one  man  with  one  woman — should  continue 
so  long  as  the  race  should  endure. 

It  seems  to  me,  also,  that  some  of  the  best  qualities  of  human 
nature  are  developed  by  the  connection.  I  look  on  it  as  much  a 
spiritual  as  a  carnal  want.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  omission  of  this  is 
the  great  defect  of  the  Shakers.  If  they  could  still  preserve  th*e  family 
tie  and  then  have  all  the  other  good  things,  they  would  have  all  that  the 
Associationists  are  contending  for.  I  feel  grateful  to  the  Shakers  for 
all  they  have  done,  and  -to  you  for  bringing  me  better  acquainted  with 
them  and  their  opinions.  So,  believe  me,  truly,  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

TO    THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  Aug.  11,  1848. 

DEAR  FRIEND, — Tour  kind  letter  came  to  me  a  day  or  two  ago  with 
the  communication  in  the  newspaper.  I  will  forward  that  to  the  author 
of  the  article  in  the  Quarterly.  I  will  presently  write  you  about  the 
matter  which  you  refer  to — that  is,  as  soon  as  the  hot  weather  is  over, 
and  I  have  written  two  pieces  which  are  now  on  my  hands,  but  only 
laid  away  till  the  Dog-days  are  past.  I  have  not  done  it  before  for  this 
reason,  I  dislike  controversy.  You  may  think  it  strange  that  I,  who 


THEODORE   PARKER.  385 

have  been  mixed  up  in  so  much  of  it,  should  have  no  natural  appetite 
therefor,  but  I  have  not  even  an  acquired  taste  for  it :  I  always  fear 
that  I  shall  not  do  my  opponent  justice.  I  like  to  make  my  statement, 
to  have  him  make  his,,  and  then  let  the  two  stand  for  what*  they  are 
worth.  One  thing  I  am  sure  of  in  this  matter,  viz.  the  entire  fairness, 
candour,  and  love,  of  the  person  who  will  confront  me.  If  I  can  be  as 
fair  as  I  know  you  will  be,  I  shall  be  glad.  I  will  write  it  all  out  as 
plain  as  I  can.  But  I  suppose  the  end  will  be  that  each  of  us  will  be 
thoroughly  confirmed  in  his  own  opinions.  Differences  of  temperament, 
education,  &c.,  make  a  deal  of  difference  in  the  conclusions  men  arrive 
at.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  attend  to  this,  I  fear,  before  October ;  but 
then  I  will  do  so,  only  I  shall  write  with  no  thought  of  publication. 
I  think  it  takes  all  mankind  to  represent  all  of  the  truth  that  is  known 
as  yet,  and  each  particular  sect,  or  party,  or  class,  has  some  function 
thereof  which  no  other  possesses.  I  aim  to  find  out  all  the  new  truth 
I  can,  not  yet  known  by  anybody,  then  to  take  all  I  can  get  from  each ' 
sect,  party,  or  class  of  men,  and  put  all  together,  the  new  and  the 
old,  and  set  it  before  men.  If  men  do  not  then  accept  it,  I  proceed  to 
point  out  the  particular  truth  of  each  party,  and  also  its  particular 
error ;  and  when  that  is  done,  I  do  not  suppose  that  I  am  free  from 
errors,  nor  do  I  expect  that  all  will  come  over  to  my  way  of  thinking. 
I  shall  be  very  glad  to  write  the  papers  I  speak  of  to  you,  knowing 
very  well  that  it  can  only  increase  my  esteem  for  you. 
So  good  bye. 

Truly  your  friend,  THEO.  PARKER.. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Oct.  7,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — If  I  did  not  know  that  you  are  a  true  man,  I 
should  suppose  you  would  think  me  a  very  false  one  for  not  writing  to 
you  on  the  subject  I  long  ago  promised  to  write  on,  and  which  you  have 
been  kind  enough  often  to  remind  me  of.  But  when  I  am  well,  I  am  a 
busy  man,  and  when  ill,  a  silent  one.  Now  I  have  a  little  time  at 
command,  and  thus  proceed  to  write. 

I  find  that  Mr.  Dunlary  admits  that  marriage,  or  the  sexual  union  of 
men  and  women,  belongs  to  the  order  of  nature  ;  but  if  I  understand 
him,  he  thinks  this  order  of  nature  has  been  superseded  by  a  new  dis 
pensation,  and  of  course,  all  the  accidents  of  the  order  of  nature  are 
likewise  superseded,  and  marriage  among  the  rest. 

Now,  to  make  out  his  case,  he  must  (first)  show  that  there  has  been 
such  a  dispensation  which  thus  supersedes  the  order  of  nature  ;  or  else 
(second),  show  that  there  was  a  new  order  which  expressly  forbids  mar 
riage  to  the  persons  who  accept  the  new.  I  do  not  find  that  Mr. 
Dunlary  has  done  either  of  those  two  things. 

Marriage  seems  to  me  as  plainly  demanded  by  the  constitution  of  the 
human  body,  as  copulation  amongst  animals  is  demanded  by  the  consti 
tution  of  their  bodies.  So  long  as  the  human  race  continues  in  the 
body,  the  body  itself  is  an  argument  for  marriage.  Now,  it  seems  to  me 
that  if  the  duties  of  the  body  are  not  fulfilled,  the  body  suffers  and 
deteriorates,  becomes  a  poorer  instrument  of  the  spirit  (I  use  this  word 
to  mean  all  that  is  not  body),  and  so  the  spirit  cannot  fully  perform 
its  functions. 

26 


386  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

I  think  this  is  the  case  with  many  who  have  never  married  ;  I  think 
I  know  some  unmarried  women  who  are  examples  of  this. 

With  men,  cases  of  involuntary  chastity  seem  to  be  more  rare ;  men 
finding  a  satisfaction  for  the  appetite  without  marriage.  Some  men 
there  are,  and  some  women,  who  do  not  need  marriage,  to  whom  it 
would  be  irksome. 

Perhaps  there  is  one  such  in  100,  imperfect  men  and  women.  Now, 
if  this  were  all,  I  should  very  much  distrust  any  mode  of  religion, 
or  any  school  of  philosophy,  which  should  teach  that  marriage  was  to 
be  superseded.  I  should  say,  Here  is  the  body,  with  its  organs  and  its 
•appetites  ;  this  is  an  argument  against  you,  and  one  straightway  from 
God. 

But  I  go  further,  and  think  that  marriage  is  a  spiritual  affair  as  well 
as  a  merely  physical — it  is  love  as  well  as  lust,  and  a  great  deal  more 
love  than  lust.  When  man  is  a  savage  and  subordinate  to  his  instincts, 
the  appetite  commands  him,  and  the  connection  of  man  and  woman  is 
chiefly  sensual. 

But  when  he  is  cultivated  and  refined,  the  sentiment  is  more  than 
the  appetite ;  the  animal  appetite  remains,  but  it  does  not  bear  so  large 
a  ratio  to  the  whole  consciousness  of  the  man  as  before,  while  the 
sentiment  of  love  bears  one  much  greater.  It  seems  to  me  that  love 
between  man  and  woman  resulting  in  marriage,  leads  to  the  develop 
ment  of  all  the  spiritual  powers  of  man,  or  helps  in  their  development. 
Out  of  that  comes  the  society  of  man  and  wife,  then  of  parent  and 
child,  and  so  on.  So,  it  seems  to  me  that  marriage  is  more  spiritual 
than  carnal. 

Now,  if  it  could  be  shown  to  me  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  taught  that 
marriage  and  all  communication  of  rnan  and  woman  ought  to  cease 
with  religious  persons,  it  would  not  weaken  my  regard  for  marriage  in 
the  smallest  degree.  I  should  say,  "  Here  is  my  body  and  my  soul 
(I  mean  my  affections),  the  external  and  the  internal  evidences  of 
the  naturalness  of  marriage.  I  cannot  resist  their  testimony."  In 
short,  I  should  not  set  aside  the  old  dispensation  until  the  body  and  the 
affections  of  man  were  themselves  set  aside. 

But  then,  the  question  comes,  Did  Jesus  teach  such  a  doctrine  ?  It 
is  quite  difficult  to  determine  with  accuracy  what  was  the  opinion  of 
Jesus  on  some  points.  But,  notwithstanding  my  reverence  for  Jesus 
and  my  love  for  him,  I  cannot  attach  much  importance  to  that  inquiry, 
for  if  I  think  that  the  work  (and  so  the  will)  of  God  is  against  him, 
I  cannot  follow  him  against  God. 

I  know  this  is  no  answer  to  Mr.  Dunlary,  and  I  say  it  only  by  way 
of  introduction,  hoping  to  hear  from  you  soon.  I  am,  as  heretofore, 
faithfully,  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKEB. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Dec.  31,  1849. 

MY  DEAR,  FRIEND, — Soon  as  I  received  your  last  letter,  I  set  myself 
seriously  to  work  to  write  an  answer  in  detail,  but  continued  inter 
ruption  for  the  sake  of  other  duties  renders  it  impossible  that  I  should 


THEODORE   PARKER.  387 

be  able  to  do  this ;  therefore  I  will  limit  myself  to  considerations  of  a 
more  general  character,  which  require  less  time  and  space,  and  will 
leave  the  other  matter  to  be  talked  over  when  we  may  meet,  as  I  trust 
we  shall ;  for  a  little  conversation  will  do  more  than  a  good  deal  of 
writing. 

I  shall  take  it  for  granted  that,  in  making  man  male  and  female,  pro 
viding  them  with  instinctive  desires  for  union,  and  providing  no  other 
way  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  race  except  by  such  union,  Grod  esta 
blished  marriage  in  the  very  nature  of  man's  body.  I  think  the  spirit 
of  one  sex  is  as  incomplete  without  the  other  as  the  body  is,  and  that 
there  is  as  much  a  spiritual  desire  for  the  spirit  of  the  other  sex  in 
men  and  women,  as  a  bodily  desire  for  the  bodies  of  the  opposite  sex. 
Only  in  most  persons  it  is  not  so  strong. 

On  these  two  points  I  think  we  do  not  differ. 

Now,  the  question  comes,  Did  Jesus  Christ  intend  to  forbid  marriage 
to  his  followers  ?  or,  allowing  it,  Did  he  think  celibacy  the  better  state  ? 
Before  answering  that  question,  it  is  necessary  to  look  a  little  at  the 
state  of  opinion  in  the  world  about  him  on  this  matter  : — 

1.  The  Jews  considered  marriage  necessary  and  sacred.     Celibacy  in 
a  man  was  thought  impious,  in  a  woman  disgraceful.     But  afterwards 
marriage  got  into  worse  repute  among  the  Jews,  and  moralists  found 
it  necessary  to  commend  marriage  (See,  e.  g.  Ecclesiasticus  xxxvi.  24 
and  26 ;  xxvi.  1,  3,  13,  16,  20,  21 ;  xl.  23  ;  and  other  passages).     At 
length  there  grew  up  a  sect  which  abandoned  marriage — the  Essenes. 
They  had  some  excellent   ideas,  it   seems,  and   had   a  good  deal  of 
influence  on  the  early  Christians  in  many  matters. 

2.  Amongst  the  heathens,  marriage  was  generally  held  in  esteem,  or, 
at  any  rate,  celibacy  was  not  much  allowed  or  practised.     Still,  it  was 
sometimes  practised  as  a  religious  duty,  by  a  caste  of  men  or  women : 
the  vestal  virgins  are  examples. 

In  the  offering  of  sacrifices,  it  seems  early  to  be  thought  that  what 
was  most  valuable  to  men  or  most  dear,  was  also  the  most  acceptable 
offering  to  God.  Hence,  the  fruits  of  pastoral  life  (oxen,  &c.),  or  of  agri 
cultural  life  (wheat,  fruit,  &c.),  and  not  the  spontaneous  productions 
of  the  earth,  were  the  sacrifice.  As  the  organs  of  generation  were  of 
value  in  keeping  the  race  in  existence  and  in  satisfying  the  instinct  of 
man,  in  a  fit  of  religious  excitement  men  mutilated  themselves  in  the 
name  of  God  (the  priests  of  Cybele  are  examples  of  this),  and  others 
made  a  vow  of  temporary  or  continual  chastity. 

3.  The  Hebrews  never  had  a  high  idea  of  woman.     Man  is  created 
for  his  own  sake,  woman  to  be  a  helpmeet  for  him  (Gren.  ii.  18  and 
24).     Man  is  of  Grod,  woman  only  of  man  and  for  man.     This,  also,  is 
Paul's  notion  (1  Cor.  xi.  7,  &c.).     The  common  notions  of  woman  in 
the  Old  Testament  is,  that  she  is  a  wanton,  or  a  drudge,  or  a  shrew. 
She  lost  us  Paradise;  her  heart  is  "  snares  and  nets":  "Any  wicked 
ness  but  that  of  a  woman  "  was  a  proverb.    Among  the  heathens  there 
was  great  wantonness  ;  there  was,  also,  among  the  Jews,  to  judge  from 
complaints  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  the  numerous  words  the  Hebrew 
language  has  for  the  crime  of  sensuality. 

4.  These  things  being  so,  it  is  not  at  all  surprising  that  some  of  the 
Christians  thought  it  was  best  to  cut  off  that  passion  altogether  which 


388  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

they  found  it  difficult  to  regulate ;  not  surprising  that  they  thought 
they  ought  to  sacrifice  their  powers  of  generation,  as  the  vestals  or 
priests  of  Cybele  had  done.  Especially  would  this  be  so  among  the 
rigid  Christians  ;  and  the  persecutions  tended  to  make  them  all  rigid. 
Still  more,  if  men  came  from  the  Essenes  to  Christianity,  would  they 
bring  their  own  notions  of  marriage  with  them  ? 

This  being  the  case,  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  to  find  St.  Paul  speak 
of  marriage  as  he  does.  But,  yet  further,  the  early  Christians  thought 
the  world  was  soon  to  end  in  their  lifetime,  so  marriage  was  not  need 
ful  to  perpetuate  the  race.  So  Paul  suffers  it  for  such  as  cannot  do 
without  it ;  but  to  him  it  was  a  mere  physical  necessity,  not  at  all  a 
spiritual  affection,  which  led  to  wedlock.  I  am  not  surprised  to  see 
such  language  attributed  to  Jesus  as  occurs  in  Matthew,  Mark,  and 
Luke,  but  I  do  not  find  reason  to  believe  that  Jesus  was  at  all  desirous 
of  disturbing  the  natural  order  of  things  in  relation  to  this  affair. 
Still,  I  think  such  opinions  were  attributed  to  him  before  the  Fourth 
Gospel  was  written,  for  in  that  Christ  is  said  to  work  his  first  miracle 
at  a  marriage.  It  seems  to  me  the  author  meant  to  show  that  Christ 
sanctioned  marriage,  and  the  use  of  wine,  of  which  Christ  makes  tnree 
or  four  barrels  for  the  occasion. 

Now,  if  Christ  intended  to  overthrow  and  supersede  the  union  of 
the  sexes,  I  think  he  would  not  have  left  it  at  all  ambiguous,  but  would 
have  said  so  with  great  plainness,  speaking  as  distinctly  as  he  did  of 
the  Sabbath  and  of  the  Jewish  institutions,  fasts,  and  the  like.  Many 
of  the  interpretations  of  Mr.  Dunlary  seem  to  me  mistaken ;  e.  g.  his 
account  of  the  "  abomination  of  desolation  "  s,eems  to  me  wholly  a 
mistake ;  yet,  in  other  passages  he  shows  a  great  degree  of  ingenuity 
as  well  as  fairness,  and  I  feel  much  respect  for  the  man.  But  you  see 
how  much  time  it  would  take  for  me  to  go  over  the  whole  matter,  text 
for  text ;  it  would  require  me  to  write  a  great  book,  which  I  have  not 
time  or  health  to  undertake. 

I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  my  long  delay  and  neglect ;  I  know 
you  would,  if  you  knew  the  amount  of  matter  I  must  attend  to. 

Allow  me  to  wish  you  a  happy  new  year,  and  believe  me, 

Your  friend, 

THEODOBE  PABKEB. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Boston,  October  20,  1850. 

MY  DEAB  EBIEND, — I  was  very  glad  to  receive  your  kind  letter  of 
the  13th,  and  thank  you  for  the  kindly  interest  you  take  in  me  and 
mine.  The  Massachusetts  Quarterly  Review  came  to  an  end  directly 
through  the  failure  of  the  publishers,  though  they  always  found  the 
Review  profitable  to  them.  It  still  owes  me  a  little  sum  of  money.  But 
I  was  never  a  suitable  person  to  conduct  a  Review.  I  am  the  most  un 
popular  man  in  Massachusetts,  and  probably  am  more  hated  than  any 
person  in  the  State  who  is  not  connected  with  politics. 

I  shall  not  write  in  any  periodical ;  for  there  is  none  in  America  which 
•would  accept  my  articles  if  I  should  write,  and  I  am  just  now  too  busy 
with  other  matters  to  write  in  a  journal,  even  if  there  were  one  for  me. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  389 

If  I  wrote  at  all,  I  should  prefer  the  Westminster  Review,  which  you  so 
justly  praise.  1  thank  you  for  calling  my  attention  to  the  article  on 
"  Buddhism."  I  have  been  studying  the  subject,  but  had  not  seen  the 
paper  before.  Buddha  came  in  a  period  of  general  decline  of  religion, 
and  recommended  great  austerity  in  morals.  His  followers,  for  a  time, 
refrained  from  all  sexual  action,  but  they  also  refused  to  dwell  in 
houses,  to  sit  on  a  chair  or  bench ;  but  they  gradually  returned  to  the 
common  practices  of  mankind.  I  had  not  seen  the  article  on  "  Prosti 
tution  "  till  you  called  my  attention  to  it ;  for  I  have  been  out  of 
town  all  summer,  and  out  of  the  way  of  the  journals.  It  is  able 
and  awful.  I  know  not  what  is  to  be  done.  The  industrial  feudalism 
of  the  19th  century  leads  to  some  terrible  results.  As  I  look  about 
Boston,  I  see  the  ghastly  misery  of  social  life,  and  know  not  what  to  do. 
Last  Sunday  afternoon  I  preached  at  Deer  Island,  to  a  congregation  of 
drunkards  (men  and  women),  and  street- walking  harlots,  in  a  sort  of 
hospital.  There  I  saw  some  40  to  60  broken-down  women  of  the  town, 
in  bed  with  the  venereal  disease  !  I  see  daily  sights  in  Boston  of  awful 
sin  and  misery,  not  the  product  of  lust  alone,  but  of  intemperance, 
ignorance,  poverty,  and  manifold  crime,  which  make  me  shudder.  All 
that  I  can  do  seems  like  putting  a  straw  into  the  ocean  to  stop  the 
tide.  But  I  do  not  despair  of  mankind.  No,  never  !  It  is  better  than 
ever  before,  and  the  good  God  has  a  remedy  for  it  all. 

A  history  of  the  gradual  development  of  the  sexual  element  in  man 
kind  would  be  a  noble  theme.  I  wish  I  had  either  the  talent  or  the 
time  for  the  work.  The  passages  you  quoted  from  Mill  interested  me 
much ;  I  read  his  work  soon  as  it  appeared.  He  is  one  of  the  few 
writers  on  political  economy  who  have  a  due  respect  for  woman.  He  at 
least  does  not  think  she  is  merely  to  serve  as  a  receptacle  for  the  lust 
of  man. 

I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  not  sending  you  my  little  speech  on 
Mr.  Webster,  but  I  did  not  know  that  it  would  interest  you  at  all ;  BO 
I  beg  you  to  accept  a  copy,  which  I  send  you  now.  I  will  send  you  a 
little  sermon  in  a  few  days,  and  am, 

Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PARKER. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  November  29,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — The  kindness  of  your  letters  surprises  me  as 
much  as  their  beauty.  I  thank  you  for  all  the  generosity  of  affection 
which  you  have  always  shown  for  me,  and  extended  even  to  my  writings. 
At  the  same  time,  you  have  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  heart,  and 
though  I  have  never  seen  your  face,  yet  your  character  has  made  an 
image  of  your  person  in  my  breast  which  will  not  depart  from  me.  I 
wish  it  were  possible  for  me  to  write  the  book  you  speak  of ;  but  I  live 
in  a  noisy  city,  in  "  a  world  where  want  and  suffering  are."  I  have  a 
large  parish,  and  many  daily  duties  which  call  me  early  from  my  bed, 
which  keep  me  late  from  it,  and  give  me  little  time  for  the  studies'  I 
most  affectionately  cherish.  I  have  been  at  work  on  a  book  about 
Christianity  a  long  time,  and  it  does  not  approach  completion  j  so  I 


390  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

must  despair  of  doing  what  you  speak  of.  But  it  will  give  me  great 
pleasure  to  visit  the  "  Shakers  "  you  mention ;  only,  such  are  my  engage 
ments  in  the  winter,  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  so  before  May.  I 
think  then  I  shall  be  glad  to  meet  you  there. 

Believe  me  as  ever, 

Faithfully  yours, 

THEO.  PAKKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  July  15,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Tour  book  came  in  due  time,  and  a  very 
friendly  note  a  few  days  later — both  welcome,  as  all  that  comes  from 
that  source  always  is.  I  happened,  accidentally,  to  be  at  leisure  that 
day,  and  so  I  read  your  book  through  directly.  Tour  informant  seems 
to  me  a  little  mistaken  in  the  character  of  the  work. 

I  think  it  was  written  by  a  very  licentious  person,  for  the  most 
obscene  purpose.  He  seems  destitute  of  all  true  reverence  for  man  or 
God.  He  is  smutty,  and  vulgar,  and  low.  Sexual  passion  is  always  in 
his  thoughts,  and  so  he  rifles  the  Bible,  and  the  classics,  and  Christian 
writers,  to  find  matter  to  his  taste.  He  teaches  that  the  tree  of  know 
ledge,  which  Adam  and  Eve  were  forbidden  to  touch,  was  the  sexual 
union  of  man  and  woman.  He  does  not  seem  to  believe  what  he 
teaches.  Some  of  the  Christian  fathers  were  of  this  opinion.  It  is 
contrary  to  the  genius  of  the  Hebrew  nation,  and  to  their  interpreta 
tions  of  their  own  literature.  I  know  a  clergyman  who  adopts  the 
above-named  opinion.  He  is  a  queer  man,  with  the  most  intense  pas 
sion  for  women,  and  the  most  erratic  notions  of  forbearance.  He 
seems  continually  desiring  what  he  never  dares  to  do,  and  is  one  of  the 
most  unhappy  of  men — lascivious  as  a  goat,  abstemious  as  a  hermit, 
capricious  as  a  monkey,  and  (now)  as  irritable  as  a  hornet.  He  is  the 
only  minister  I  ever  met  who  publicly  maintained  this  opinion. 

I  hope  you  have  a  nice  and  quiet  time  this  summer.  I  am  now 
at  Brookline,  three  or  four  miles  from  Boston,  and  in  a  place  where 
all  is  green  about  me  ;  there  is  no  noise,  and  the  quiet,  the  silence,  the 
freedom  from  interruption  is  delightful.  I  can  do  twice  as  much  here 
as  I  can  in  the  city.  In  August  I  shall  go  off  to  the  mountains  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  spend  a  few  weeks  there  in  examining  the  natural 
history  of  the  place — studying  the  coal,  the  rocks,  and  the  plants.  I 
have  some  friends  engaged  in  the  geological  survey  of  the  State,  and  I 
hope  much  rest  from  the  change  of  scene  and  the  change  of  thought. 

Tours  faithfully, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  Sept.  21,  1851. 

MY  DEAR,  GOOD  FBIEND,— I  had  a  good  time  in  Pennsylvania,  saw 
the  coal  country,  went  about  there  with  my  scientific  friends,  and 
learned  a  good  deal  that  was  new  to  me.  I  am  amazed  when  I  think 
of  the  material  riches  which  God  has  stored  up  in  this  world,  as  school- 


THEODORE   PARKER.  391 

furniture  for  the  human  race.  For,  I  take  it,  these  great  forces  which 
science  slowly  brings  to  light,  out  of  the  ground,  are,  at  last,  to  serve 
the  great  moral  purpose  of  human  life;  to  make  the  mass  of  men 
better  off,  wiser,  juster,  more  affectionate,  and  more  holy  in  all  their 
life,  without  and  within.  But,  hitherto,  the  great  results  of  human 
science  have  been  for  the  few,  not  the  many.  The  steam-ships  that 
weave  the  two  Continents  together  are  palaces  for  the  wealthy  man 
who  takes  passage  in  them.  But  the  poor  sailor  on  board  them  is 
hardly  better  off  than  the  Norse  seaman,  who  sailed  to  Labrador, 
dressed  in  bear-skins,  1000  years  ago,  and  they  have  not  so  much  self- 
respect. 

You  might  step  from  the  Crystal  Palace  to  St.  Giles's  parish  in 
London,  and  what  a  contrast  you  would  see  between  the  "  London 
labour  and  the  London  poor !  "  The  magnificence  of  luxury  is  achieved 
at  immense  cost ! 

The  men  who  make  the  finery  of  Birmingham  and  Brussels,  of  Lyons 
and  Geneva,  never  wear  it.  The  ass  used  to  carry  papyrus  to  the 
.Roman  bath,  but  himself  was  never  washed !  So  it  is  now  with  the 
workers  and  their  work.  You,  the  Shakers,  I  think,  have  solved  the 
problem  of  industry  with  remarkable  success.  The  labour  of  each 
blesses  all :  none  is  cursed  with  drudgery,  none  with  idleness,  none 
with  poverty,  none  with  the  wantonnesss  of  unearned  riches.  Now,  I 
think  that,  some  time  or  another,  the  human  race  will  solve  this  dreadful 
problem,  and  do  without  poverty  as  easily  as  without  war.  Then  these 
great  forces, — steam,  electricity,  and  a  hundred  more  which  no  man 
dreams  of  yet,  will  do  their  higher  work  of  civilizing,  moralizing,  re 
fining,  and  blessing  mankind.  We  must  work  and  wait. 

I  wish  I  had  the  time  for  the  book  you  speak  of,  but  I  have  already 
laid  out  more  work  than  I  shall  be  able  to  do  in  my  lifetime,  I  fear.  I 
have  made  the  preliminary  studies  for  them,  so  that  if  I  should  turn  off 
now  to  other  pursuits  I  should  lose  too  much  that  has  cost  me  too 
dear.  I  am  now  engaged  on  a  book  which  ought  to  have  been  done 
long  ago,  and  would  have  been,  but  for  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law,  which 
kept  me  contending  with  the  officers  of  law  all  last  winter.  Now  I 
am  at  work  on  that,  and  hope  to  have  it  done  by  next  spring,  if  I  am 
well  all  the  winter. 

I  have  not  yet  found  out  the  name  of  the  author  of  the  little  book 
you  sent  me.  Still,  it  seems  very  obvious  to  me  that  the  man  had  no 
object  in  view  but  an  obscene  one.  Of  course  I  may  be  mistaken.  He 
enters  into  such  wanton  details  of  wantonness  as  none  but  a  licentious 
man  would  do,  as  I  should  think.  But  I  should  hate  to  judge  any  man 
too  severely. 

I  will  yet  ascertain  the  author,  if  possible.  I  write  on  a  slip  of 
paper  the  name  of  the  clergyman  I  spoke  of.  I  should  prefer  that  no 
one  knew  his  name  but  you.  He  is  one  of  the  most  self-denying  men 
that  I  have  ever  known.  His  conscience  has  grown  out  like  a  sickly 
tumor  on  him,  it  seems  to  me.  But  I  respect  and  honor  him.  If 

you  took  him  out  of  the  ministry  in ,  I  know  not  what  would 

become  of  them. 

"We  have  just  returned  to  Boston,  or  I  should  have  answered  your 
kind  letter  before. — Truly  yours,  THEO.  PABKER. 


392  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE     OF 

i 

TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Newton,  June  8,  1852. 

MY  DKAB  FEIEND, — Tour  kind  letter  came  to  me  yesterday,  and  I 
was  glad  to  find  your  handwriting  on  the  envelope,  and  marks  of  your 
kindly  soul  in  the  letter  itself.  I  ought  to  apologize  to  you  for  not 
visiting  you  at  New  Lebanon,  as  I  have  repeatedly  promised;  but  two 
reasons  prevented — one  was  the  incessant  labor  to  which  I  have  been 
compelled  all  the  season :  no  sooner  is  one  thing  over  but  another 
comes  in  its  place.  The  next  was  this :  whenever  I  laid  aside  the  money 
for  the  enterprise,  s*ome  poor  person  came  who  needed  my  help,  and  I 
could  not  say,  "  No,  sir,  I  can't  help  you ;  I  want  to  spend  for  pleasure ' 
the  trifle  you  need  for  support,"  so  I  have  been  debarred  of  the  plea 
sure  of  seeing  you  and  your  friends.  I  hope  you  will  not  mention  this 
to  anybody,  for  it  is  not  a  fact  that  concerns  the  public,  and  I  only 
mention  it  that  you  may  see  it  was  no  lack  of  will  on  my  part.  Yet,  do 
not  think  that  I  am  poor — I  am  rather  rich  than  otherwise — but  can 
always  spend  my  means  more  profitably  than  on  my  personal  enjoy 
ments.  This  season,  several  scholarly  men  of  this  country  and  other 
countries  have  looked  to  me  for  a  little  help,  and  I  could  not  say  nay. 

I  saw  the  article  in  the  Tribune  which  you  refer  to,  and  liked  the 
extracts  from  the  book.  In  my  lecture,  in  quoting  the  Highlander's 
remark,  "  Wherever -McDonald  sits,  there  is  the  head  of  the  table,"  I  meant 
to  say,  the  head  of  the  table  was  where  the  greatest  worth  was,  and,  if 
the  mutton  was  better  than  the  man,  then  the  platter  was  the  head  of 
the  table,  not  the  owner  of  the  mutton.  I  fully  accord  with  all  you 
say  about  gentleness — the  native  kindliness  of  heart  which  seeks  to 
comfort  and  delight  others,  and  which  you  so  well  exemplify  in  your 
own  house.  It  is  before  all  natural  or  acquired  gracefulness  of  manner, 
which,  indeed,  is  nothing  without  this  inner  light  of  good  manners. 
We  should  agree  perfectly  on  that  matter. 

In  respect  to  repelling  force  by  force,  I  should  differ  from  you 
widely.  I  respect  the  conduct  of  the  Friends  in  this  matter  very  much, 
and  their  motives  also,  but  I  do  not  share  their  opinions.  I  follow 
what  seems  to  me  the  light  of  nature.  It  appears  to  me  the  opinion  of 
Jesus  is  made  too  much  of  in  this  particular. 

He  supposed  the  "world"  was  soon  to  end,  and  the  "kingdom  of 
heaven"  was  presently  to  be  established.  He  therefore  commands  his 
followers  to  "resist  not  evil" — not  only  not  to  resist  with  violence,  but 
not  at  all.  In  like  manner  he  tells  them  to  "  take  no  thought  for  the 
morrow."  These  counsels  I  take  it  were  given  in  the  absolute  sense  of 
the  words,  and  would  do  well  enough  for  a  world  with  no  future ;  the 
day  was  "  at  hand  "  when  the  Son  of  Man  should  come  with  power  and 
great  glory,  and  give  fourfold  for  all  given  in  charity,  and  eternal  life 
besides.  But  the  Son  of  Man  (or  God)  is  to  use  violence  of  the  most 
terrible  character  (Matt.  xxv.  31-46).  Men  were  not  'to  take  ven 
geance,  or  even  to  resist  wrong ;  not  to  meditate  the  defence  they  were 
to  make  when  brought  before  a  court — all  was  to  be  done  for  them  by 
supernatural  power.  These  things  being  so,  with  all  my  veneration  for 
the  character  of  Jesus,  and  my  reverence  for  his  general  principles  of 
morality  and  religion,  I  cannot  accept  his  rule  of  conduct  in  such 
matters. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  393 

Yet,  I  think,  violence  is  resorted  to  nine  times  when  it  is  needless, 
to  every  one  instance  when  it  is  needed.  I  have  never  preached 
against  the  doctrine  of  the  non-resistants,  but  often  against  the  excess 
of  violence  in  the  State,  the  Church,  the  community,  and  the  family. 
I  think  cases  may  occur  in  which  it  would  be  my  duty  to  repel  violence, 
even  with  taking  life.  Better  men  than  I  am  think  quite  differently, 
and  I  respect  their  conscientiousness,  but.  must  be  ruled  by  my  own 
conscience  ;  and,  till  otherwise  enlightened,  should  use  violence,  if  need 
be,  to  help  a  fugitive. 

I  went  up  to  Vermont  last  week,  to  conduct  Miss  Stevenson  to  her 
residence  for  the  summer  (at  a  tavern  in  Sudbury,  Vermont).  She 
would  send  her  greetings  to  you,  if  at  home. 

My  wife  sends  her  most  kindly  greetings  to  you  and  yours.  I  get 
on  slowly  with  my  book  ;  but  have  a  little  volume  of  sermons  which 
will  see  the  light,  I  hope,  in  the  autumn.  I  think  nobody  has  written 
on  the  subject  you  speak  of.  If  I  can  find  such  a  book,  I  will  inform 
you. 

Eemember  me  kindly  to  all  of  your  family,  not  forgetting  the  visitor 
from  New  Jersey. 


T.P. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

Boston,  March  15,  1853. 

MY  DEAB,  GOOD  FRIEND,  —  I  should  have  written  you  long  ago  ;  but 
when  I  came  home  from  New  York  I  had  another  of  the  comforts  of 
Job,  which  seated  itself  on  my  right  hand,  so  that  I  could  not  write 
with  it.  Some  indispensable  letters  I  wrote  with  the  left.  You  would 
laugh  to  see  them,  but  give  up  the  attempt  to  read.  Now  that  is  gone, 
and  all  its  companions,  I  hope.  I  was  never  better  than  now. 

Your  old  and  intimate  relative  has  taken  that  step  in  his  life  which. 
we  commonly  call  death.  I  doubt  not  it  was  a  pleasant  step  for  him  to 
take,  though  painful  always  it  must  be  for  us,  the  living,  to  separate 
from  such  as  go  to  a  higher  life.  But  there  are  so  many  beautiful 
associations  which  cling  to  those  we  love,  and  come  out  with  all  the 
more  beauty  when  they  cease  to  be  mortal,  that  the  departure  of  a 
friend  is  always  attended  with  an  exaltation  of  our  spirits  if  we  have 
faith  in  the  infinite  goodness  of  the  great  Father. 

There  are  some  men  whom  I  pity  exceedingly,  — 

1.  Such  as  have  no  belief  in  the  soul,  eternal  life,  and  look  on  death 
as  an  ultimate  fact. 

2.  Such  as  only  fear  a  G-od,  but  do  not  know  the  infinite  Father 
(and  infinite  Mother)  of  all  souls,  and  so  have  nothing  on  which  they 
can  perfectly  rely. 

I  meet  both  classes  of  men  (the  latter  oftenest),  and  I  pity  them 
most  exceedingly.  To  one,  the  grave  is  only  a  deep,  dark  hole  in  the 
ground  ;  to  the  other,  it  is  a  hole  which  leads  down  to  hell. 

The  popular  religion  makes  death  a  most  formidable  enemy  —  a  thing 
to  be  shuddered  at. 

I  am  amazed  at  the  feebleness  of  men's  faith  in  God.  Death  is  one 
step  in  our  progress  ;  birth  was  a  step  once.  But  birth  was  a  death  to 
one  form  of  being,  and  death  is  a  birth  into  another  form  of  being.  To 


394  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

die  in  infancy,  youth,  or  manhood  does  not  seem  after  the  true  course 
of  nature  ;  but  to  die  in  old  age, — 

"  Life's  blessings  all  enjoyed,  life's  duties  done," — 
that  is  no  misfortune,  but  a  blessing  also.  My  father,  when  an  old  man — 
seventy-and-seven  years  old — laid  down  his  weary,  mortal  bones,  and  was 
glad  to  die  "We  wept  over  his  toil-worn  hands  and  venerable  head,  which 
we  had  kissed  so  many  a  thousand  times;  but  we  were  glad  that  the  dear 
old  man  rested  from  his  labors,  and  went  home  to  his  God  and  our 
God— the  earthly  father  to  the  Infinite  Father  and  Mother.  So  shall 
we  all  one  day  be  glad  to  go,  and  knock  with  our  feeble  hand  at  our 
Mother's  door.  "  Undo  the  gate,  and  let  me  in,"  shall  we  all  say,  as 
we  go  willing  and  welcome  to  meet  her.  I  hope  you  and  yours  are  all 
well.  We  send  our  kindest  salutations  to  you  all.  My  wife  and  Miss 
Stevenson  admired  your  daguerreotype,  and  thought  it  quite  faithful. 
•  4'-.<i  Sincerely  yours,  THEO.  PARKER. 

TO   THE  SAME.* 

Boston,  January  15,  1855. 

MY  DEAR,  GOOD  FRIEND, — It  is  long  since  I  have  seen  your  kindly 
venerable  face,  or  even  had  a  line  from  your  hand.  I  was  never  so 
busy  as  now ;  all  things  conspire  to  make  me  solitary  (in  my  study) 
one-half  the  time ;  and  public  (in  some  great  assembly)  the  other  half. 
Just  now  I  have  scarce  time  for  anything  but  public  duties,  and  the 
arrest  and  "trial"  will  only  aggravate  the  evil  for  a  little  time  to  come ; 
but  by-and-bye  it  shall  be  otherwise  and  better. 

I  passed  through  New  York  in  October,  reaching  at  9  P.M.  and 
leaving  at  8  A.M.,  and  again  last  week,  arriving  at  3  A.M.  and  departing 
at  8  P.M.,  but  had  no  time  to  see  even  you  and  yours.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Brace  were  at  our  house  a  few  days  ago,  and  I  promised  them  to  pass 
the  night  of  my  lecture  at  their  house,  and  I  must  keep  the  promise, 
else  I  should  have  the  pleasure  of  stopping  with  one  so  very  dear  to 
me  as  yourself,  but  I  shall  come  and  see  you  and  yours. 

I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  the  50  dollars,  which  shall  be  put  in 
the  treasury  for  the  "  Friendless  Girls,"  in  the  manner  you  suggest. 
"We  will  send  any  girls  to  the  Shakers  who  wish  to  go;  they  are 
usually  sent  to  families  in  the  country,  but  doubtless  we  shall  find 
some  who  will  desire  the  quiet  seclusion  of  the  Shakers.  I  love  to  see 
a  man  who  makes  his  money  serve  as  a  ladder  towards  heaven, 
whereon  he  and  his  fellow- creatures  may  climb  up  to  higher  heights  of 
humanity :  the  strong  man  lifting  up  the  weak  !  "What  a  ghastly  vice 
this  of  prostitution  is  !  It  comes  from  the  false  idea  that  woman  is  to 
be  the  tool  of  man,  not  his  equal,  but  slave ;  but  gradually  we  should 
outgrow  this  folly  and  wickedness,  as  we  have  many  others. 

1  am  sorry  that  I  do  not  see  more  of  your  son.  I  am  so  busy  that 
I  seldom  go  to  Cambridge,  not  twice  in  six  months,  and  he  does  not 
visit  us  'so  often  as  I  could  wish.  By-and-bye  he  will  get  better 
acquainted. 

Remember  me  most  kindly  to  all,  and  believe  me, 

Heartily  yours,         THEO.  PARKER. 

*  See  in  the  Appendix  VI.,  Vol.  II.,  a  letter  from  Mr.  White's  son,  in  acknowledgment 
of  the  benefit  which  the  father  derived  from  his  correspondence  with  Mr.  Parker. 


THEODORE  PAEKEB.  395 

TO  KEY.  DAVID  WASSON. 

Boston,  December  12,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  WASSON, — Many  thanks  for  your  kind  and  welcome 
letter.  I  know  how  much  it  cost  you  to  write  it,  and  that  dims  my 
joy  in  reading  it.  You  must  not  write  much ;  you  learned  to  labor 
long  ago,  now  "  learn  to  wait."  I  ate  my  lunch  in  the  railroad  station, 
and  thought  over  all  Higginson  said  in  defence  of  the  Irish.  I  like 
good  plump  criticism,  and  need  it  oftener  than  I  get  it ;  but  I  think  he 
was  mainly  wrong,  and  still  adhere  to  my  opinion  of  the  Celtic  Irish. 
In  other  lectures  I  have  showed  at  length  the  good  they  will  do  our 
country ;  when  I  give  this  again  I  will  do  so,  and  name  the  good 
qualities  of  the  "gentlemen  from  Corrrkk,"  and  the  poor  wretches 
from  Africa. 

I  take  Blumenbach's  five  races  only  as  provisional — five  baskets 
which  will  hold  mankind  and  help  us  handle  them.  In  respect  to 
power  of  civilization,  the  African  is  at  the  bottom,  the  American  Indian 
next.  The  history  of  the  world,  I  think,  shows  this,  and  its  pre 
historic  movements.  I  don't  say  it  will  be  always  so ;  I  don't  know. 

You  and  I  do  not  differ,  save  in  words,  about  the  Greeks.  In  the 
emotional  element  of  religion,  I  think  the  Shemites  surpass  the  Indo- 
Germans,  and  the  Jews  were  at  the  head  of  the  Shemites.  The  Phoe 
nicians  took  to  trade,  and  <;ared  no  more  about  religion  than  a  Connec 
ticut  tin-pedlar,  who  joins  any  Church  for  a  dollar.  Somebody  found 
one  of  the  scoundrels,  a  mummy  now  in  an  -^Egyptian  tomb,  who  was 
circumcised.  He  took  the  religion  of  the  place  just  as  the  current 
coin.  Religious  emotion,  religious  will,  I  think,  never  went  further 
than  with  the  Jews.  But  their  intellect  was  sadly  pinched  in  those 
narrow  foreheads.  They  were  cruel  also,  always  cruel.  I  doubt  not 
they  did  sometimes  kill  a  Christian  baby  at  the  Passover  or  the  anni 
versary  of  Hainan's  famous  day !  If  it  had  been  a  Christian  man,  we 
should  not  blame  them  much,  considering  how  they  got  treated  by  men 
who  worshipped  a  Jew  for  God.  They  were  also  lecherous.  No  lan 
guage  on  earth,  I  think,  is  so  rich  in  terms  for  sexual  mixing.  All 
the  Shemites  are  given  to  flesh.  What  mouths  they  have,  full  of  volup- 
tuousnesss !  only  the  negro  beats  them  there. 

The  Jews,  like  all  the  Shemites,  incline  to  despotism ;  they  know  no 
other  government.  The  Old  Testament  knows  no  king,  but  one  absolute ; 
the  New  Testament  is  no  wiser,  if  perhaps  you  bate  a  line  or  two 
which  Jesus  spoke — and  they  indicate  a  feeling  more  than  a  thought. 
The  New  Jerusalem  is  a  despotism  with  a  lamb  for  the  autocrat ;  a 
pretty  lamb  too,  by  the  way,  who  gathers  an  army  of  200,000,000 
horse,  and  routs  his  enemies  by  the  Euphrates,  and  then  comes  to  Italy 
and  kills  men,  till  lie  makes  a  puddle  of  blood  200  miles  wide  and 
three  feet  deep.  (See  Eev.  ix.  16,  and  xiv.  20.)  In  the  Old  Testament, 
Jehovah  is  King,  a  terrible  King  too.  He  is  not  a  constitutional  King, 
but  arbitrary.  His  word  is  law.  There  is  no  proof  of  anything,  no 
appeal  to  individual  consciousness.  With  the  Greeks,  all  this  was 
different — Indo-Germanic,  not  Shemitic.  I  love  the  Greeks,  especially 
the  authors  you  name ;  but  for  moral  helps  and  religico-emotional  helps, 
I  go  to  that  dear  Old  Testament,  for  all  ^Eschylua  and  Sophocles.  Do 


396  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

you  remember  any  example  of  remorse  in  the  Greek  literature  ?  The 
Hebrews  had  a  pretty  savage  conception  of  God ;  but  He  is  earnest, 
there  is  no  frivolity  attributed  to  Jehovah.  He  is  the  most  efficient 
Deity  of  old  times :  none  of  your  dilettante  gods.  Beside,  He  is  wholly 
superior  to  the  material  world,  while  none  of  the  Greeks  or  Romans 
got  above  the  idea  that,  in  some  particulars,  it  was  more  than  any  deity 
or  all  deities. 

Get  well  as  fast  as  you  can.  Tours,        T.  P. 

TO   F.    E.   PARKER. 

Boston,  April  15,  1858. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— I  send  you  herewith  some  rambling  thoughts  about 
the  Provident  Association,  and  they  will  gain  nothing  by  my  name,  so 
I  put  them  on  another  sheet  with  no  signature.  Show  them  to  whom 
you  like — this  to  none,  nor  let  the  writer  be  known. 

I  think  70  per  cent,  of  our  out-door  charity  has  only  a  reflex  good 
action:  30  per  cent,  helps  the  receiver,  70  only  the  giver.  Now  we 
might  reverse  the  proportions :  all  would  bless  the  giver,  but  70  per 
cent,  would  also  elevate  the  receiver. 

"When  I  first  came  to  Boston,  I  meant  to  go  into  that  work  of  look 
ing  after  the  perishing  class.  But  three  things  hindered : — 

1.  Men  had  a  great  horror  of  me. 

2.  They  had  no  correct  ideas  as  a  basis  of  action,  in  general  or  in 
special,  and 

3.  The  slavery  question  assumed  such  an  alarming  shape,  proportions, 
and  position  that  we  must  turn  head  and  put  it  down,  or  turn  tail  and 
die — conquer  as  men,  or  die  niggers. 

So,  for  twelve  years,  I  have  been  laboring  to  diffuse  the  true  idea  of 
man,  God,  and  the  relation  between  the  two — of  life  for  the  individual, 
the  family,  community,  nation,  church,  world  ;  and  also  fighting  slavery 
in  all  its  forms.  I  shall  never  do  for  the  perishing  and  dangerous 
classes  what  I  primarily  intended.  But  I  will  bore  you  no  longer  with 
this  sheet,  for  I  am, 

Tours  truly, 

T.  P. 

SOME  THOUGHTS   ON  THE    CHARITIES   OF  BOSTON. 

1.  The  effect  of  our  in-door  municipal  charity  is  excellent,  not  with 
out  some  evil,  of  course,  but  in  the  main  it  works  well.     I  am  thereby 
insured  against  starvation.     It  is  quite  a  step  in  civilization  when  a 
nation  guarantees  its  citizens  against  death  by  hunger  and  cold. 

A  little  shame  attaches  to  the  recipients  of  this  charity :  it  ought 
to  be  so  as  a  rule ;  and  a  little  more  to  their  children :  that  ought  not 
to  be  so. 

The  State  almehouses,  I  think,  are  an  improvement  on  the  old  mode 
of  treating  foreign  paupers. 

I  have  altered  my  opinion  after  a  little  observation,  and  by  the  results 
of  trial. 

2.  The  effect  of  our  out-door  charity — municipal,  social,  individual, 
is  mainly  bad.   The  secondary  (or  reflex  and  subjective)  action  is  admir- 


THEODORE    PARKER.  397 

able;  it  blesses  the  giver.  I  think  of  few  persons  who  make  an 
investment  for  their  own  sakes  which  gives  so  good  dividends  as  what 
they  spend  for  the  poor  ;  what  they  lay  out  for  others  comes  to  more 
than  what  they  lay  up  for  themselves. 

But  the  primary  (or  direct  and  objective)  action  is  quite  bad.     I 
sometimes  think  it  does  more  harm  than  good ;  but  this  is  a  little 


extravagant. 


1.  This  charity  is  badly  distributed,  without  discretion,  conscientious 
ness,  or  industry.      Most  of  your  visitors  lack  those  three  virtues. 
The  want  of  the  least  of  them  is  a  great  fault.     No  business  in  Boston 

requires  a  more  liberal  measure  of  all  three.     S is  a  capital  good 

fellow,  highly  useful  in  his  place,  truly  benevolent,  conscientious — most 
religiously  so — and  devoted  to  this  work.     He  is  tender  and  tenacious 
both — rare  metallic  qualities  to  unite  in  one  person.     You  will  not  do 
better  than  to  keep  him.     But,  spite  of  him,  things  are  as  I  say. 

2.  You  have  to  deal  with  exceeding  bad  material.     The  ethnology 
of  pauperism  is  worth  more  than  a  hasty  thought,  which  is  all  I  can 
give  it  now.     (1.)  Anglo-Saxon  pauperism,  American,  English,  Scotch, 
is  easily  disposed  of.     (2.)   German  pauperism  will  give  us  little  trouble. 
(3.)  Jewish  pauperism  will  take  care  of  itself — it  is  quite  inconsider 
able,  and  will  be  taken  charge  of  by  Jewish  almsgiving,  which  is  the 
distributive  virtue  of  that  people,  as  thrift  is  their  cumulative  virtue 
(and  an  evil  odor  their  cumulative  and  distributive  vice,  chronic  and 
progressive  with  the  children  of  Israel).     (4.)  African  pauperism  is 
easily  dealt  with.     The  negro  is  the  least  acquisitive  of  all  men  ;  his 
nature  is  tropical.     He  is  an  equatorial  grasshopper — not  a  bee  of  the 
Temperate  Zone.     Still,  he  is  so  pliant  that  we  can  do  with  him  as  we 
will,  if  we  will  justice  and  charity.     (5.)  Celtic  pauperism  is  our  stone 
of  stumbling.     The  Irishman  has  three  bad  things — bad  habits,  bad 
religion,  and,  worst  of  all,  a  bad  nature.     In  dealing  with  Irish  poor, 
I  lay  down  three  maxims : — 

(1.)  The  Irishman  will  always  lie,  if  it  is  for  his  momentary  interest. 
(2.)  He  will  not  work  while  he  can  exist  by  begging.  (3.)  He  will  steal 
when  he  can  get  a  chance,  and  preferentially  from  his  benefactor.  I 
can  recall  but  one  instance  of  a  grateful  "  gintleman  from  Cork." 
These  vices — lying,  begging,  stealing,  are  instantial  of  the  genus 
"  Paddy  from  Corrrck  ".  The  opposite  is.  exceptional— of  Bridget  and 
John,  eccentric  individuals.  I  might  add  a  fourth:  Paddy  will  get 
drunk  if  he  can  find  liquor. 

Now,  the  bulk  of  our  pauperism  is  Irish.  Suffolk  County  is  "  County 
Cork  "  ;  Boston  is  a  young  Dublin.  What  shall  we  do  with  this  wild 
Irishism  which  is  yelping  around  us  ?  I'll  tell  you  a  wrong  thing  we 
have  done  :  we  have  put  the  head-quarters  of  charity  near  the  centre 
of  the  Boston  Paddy-land  !  What  is  the  consequence  ?  Ward  VII. 
squats  in  the  anteroom  of  the  Provident  Aid  Society ;  it  passes  its 
mornings  there,  that  by  its  continual  coming  it  may  weary  the  wisdom 
of  charity  into  a  foolish  gift.  I  would  not  have  the  room  too  near  ;  as 
the  tap  draws  the  idlers,  so  the  till  of  charity  draws  Paddies.  If  it 
were  half  a  mile  off  it  were  better.  Bridget  and  Michael  will  feel  the 
"  swate  influence  "  from  the  North  End  to  the  Neck  ;  but  from  Franklin 
Street  to  Fort  Hill,  why,  it  draws  all  the  virtue  out  of  them.  We  want 


398  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

a  new  suite  of  rooms,  for  which  I  would  give  two  limits : — 1.  They 
should  not  be  in  such  fatal  proximity  to  the  Irish.  2.  They  should 
be  ventilated  well.  The  Irish  are  poisoning  our  agents  with  their  con 
taminating  nastiness. 

Last  autumn  the  benevolent  men  of  Boston  said,  "  There  will  be 
much  suffering,  and  then  much  crime.  Let  our  charity  prevent  both !  " 
It  was  religiously  meant ;  it  was  well  done.  I  think  there  has  seldom 
been  less  suffering  in  a  winter  in  Boston,  especially  in  the  class  of  peo 
ple  who  seek  our  relief.  But  where  you  sow  alms  beggary  springs  up  ; 
as  the  tare  amid  this  wheat  there  came  theft,  the  exceptional  but  regular 
weed  amid  the  instantial  crop.  Next  autumn  and  next  winter  we  shall 
see  such  demand  on  our  charity  as  we  never  knew  before.  If  charity 
be  organized,  dependence  becomes  also  an  "  institution,"  and  beggary 
is  organized  beside  it.  Ours  is  a  society  for  the  preventing  pauperism. 
Why,  we  are  making  it  a  society  for  the  promotion,  diffusion,  and 
organization  of  pauperism ! 

Now,  we  want  a  good,  able-bodied,  able-minded  man  as  the  out-door 
orgauizor  and  supervisor  of  this  work.  He  should  be  a  religious  man, 
having  piety  without  narrowness,  morality  without  cant  or  asceticism  ; 
one  upright  before  God  and  downright  before  men ;  and  with  a  theo 
logy  he  believes  in,  but  does  not  wish  to  strangle  other  men  withal. 
I  think  Rev.  Mr.  Ritchie,  of  Roxbury,  is  just  such  a  man ;  Capt. 
Goodwin  is  perhaps  still  better. 


TO   A   FRIEND. 

Boston,  Feb.  6,  1852. 

DEAR  SIB, — I  take  the  first  leisure  hour  to  reply  to  your  note  of 
last  Sunday.  Regarding  Jesus  of  Nazareth  as  a  man, 'there  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  suppose  that  he  could  never  be  mistaken.  You 
make  a  distinction  in  this  matter,  and  admit  that  he  might  come  short 
of  the  truth  through  lack  of  ability  to  see  it,  but  seem  to  hesitate  to 
admit  that  he  could  be  mistaken*  or  wrong  in 'any  of  his  positive 
teachings.  Yet  I  think  a  careful  study  of  the  Gospels  will  force  us  to 
the  conclusion  that. he  was  sometimes  mistaken. 

There  is  a  little — nay,  a  very  great — difficulty  in  ascertaining  the 
opinion  of  Jesus  on  some  quite  important  matters ;  for  (1)  it  is  not 
certain  that  any  of  the  writers  reported  his  exact  words ;  and  (2)  the 
writers  disagree  so  much  among  themselves.  Thus,  there  is  an  im 
mense  difference  between  the  first  three  Gospels  and  the  fourth — a 
difference  in  the  history  and  the  doctrines.  In  the  first  three  there  are 
remarkable  diversities  of  doctrine.  Thus,  Matthew  represents  Jesus  as 
saying  (x.  5),  "Into  any  city  of  the  Samaritans  enter  ye  not;"  and, 
again  (xv.  24),  "I  am  not  sent  but  unto  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house 
of  Israel ;"  and  Luke  puts  no  such  words  in  the  mouth  of  Jesus,  but 
represents  him  as  sending  messengers  "  into  a  village  of  the  Samari 
tans."  Of  the  ten  lepers  he  heals,  only  one  returns  thanks,  and  he  a  Sama 
ritan  (xvii.  16)  ;  and  the  model  of  practical  piety  that  he  speaks  of  (x. 
30-37)  is  also  a  Samaritan.  Luke  had  Matthew's  Gospel  before  him 
when  he  wrote.  Mark  had  both  Luke  and  Matthew,  yet  Mark  omits 


THEODORE   PARKER.  .  399 

all  that  Matthew  and  Luke  report  about  Jesus  in  relation  to  the 
Samaritans.  This  could  not  have  been  by  accident.  Matthew  seems 
still  to  have  clung  to  Judaism,  hence  he  gives  such  passages  as  that  in 
xxiii.  1-3.  Luke  was  more  liberal,  and  broke  away  from  Judaism,  and 
so  never  gives  such  a  command  as  tnat  in  Matthew.  Notice  also  the 
account  in  Matthew  of  the  sending  out  the  Twelve  (x.  1)  and  that  in  Luke 
(vi.  13),  and  Luke's  account  of  the  sending  out  of  the  seventy  (x.  1-16, 
and  17-18).  Luke  is  not  favorable  to  the  exclusive  claims  of  the  Twelve 
Apostles.  Since  this  is  so,  I  find  it  difficult  to  be  certain  how  far  opi 
nions  have  been  ascribed  to  him  which  he  never  held,  and  how  far  he 
changed  life  opinions,  and  so  taught  differently  at  different  times.  He 
did  the  latter  it  is  plain,  for  in  Matthew  (v.  17-19)  he  says  he  was  not' 
come  to  destroy  the  law  («'.  e.  the  law  in  the  Books  of  Exodus,  Levit., 
Numb.,  and  Deut.),  but  to  fulfil — i.e.  to  keep.  He  affirms  the  doc 
trine  of  the  orthodox  Jews,  that  not  a  jot  or  tittle  of  the  law  should 
be  altered  or  repealed  till  the  end  of  the  world  (v.  18),  and  would  not 
have  one  of  the  least  of  the  Commandments  (of  that  law  in  these 
books)  set  aside  or  neglected.  Yet,  by-and-bye,  how  differently  he 
speaks  of  the  Sabbath  and  of  fasting,  e.g.  in  the  same  Gospel !  How 
very  different  are  his  own  doctrines  in  the  Fourth  Gospel  (e.  g.  John 
iv.  21-23),  and  in  the  Epistle  of  Paul,  who  rejects  the  law  which  Mat 
thew  would  have  us  keep. 

If  the  First  Gospel  is  correct,  Jesus  believed  the  end  of  the  world 
was  presently  to  take  place  (Matthew  xxiv.  3-27,  29-34).  Unitarian 
and  other  interpreters  refer  this  to  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  I 
think  very  unjustly.  It  is  plain  from  the  Epistles  that  the  Christians 
thought  the  world  would  soon  end  ;  Paul,  John,  and  James  seem  to 
agree  in  this.  In  Peter  there  is  a  remarkable  passage  (2  Peter  iii. 
3-4,  7-10).  All  this  is  enough  to  show  that  Jesus  was  greatly  mis 
taken  if  Matthew  reports  him  correctly. 

Now,  I  think  that  Jesus  was  a  greater  man  than  the  Gospels  repre 
sent  him.  I  look  on  him  as  a  man  of  vast  genius,  a  great  mind,  a  great 
conscience,  a  great  heart,  and  a  great  soul.  I  mean  that  he  was  a  man 
of  great  genius — intellectual,  moral,  affectional,  and  religious  genius ; 
and  of  course  lived  a  great  life  of  piety.  But  when  he  was  a  boy  I 
suppose  he  stumbled  in  learning  to  walk ;  miscalled  the  letters  in 
learning  to  read;  got  wrong  conclusions  in  his  thoughts.  From  his 
very  nature  as  a  finite  person  this  must  be  possible  and  actual  too. 
When  he  reached  the  age  of  thirty  he  must  have  made  mistakes  in  his 
intellectual  processes,  and  in  his  moral  and  religious  processes.  We 
always  stumble  in  new  things :  the  greatest  men  must  do  so.  Kepler, 
the  great  astronomer,  first  discovered  the  great  law  in  astronomy 
which  governs  the  planets  in  the  solar  system ;  but  he  had  made  many 
a  wrong  hypothesis  before  he  hit  the  right.  From  the  nature  of  the 
case  this  must  be  so  with  any  mind  except  the  Infinite  God. 

Now,  I  should  be  much  amazed  to  find  a  man,  with  even  the  vast 
endowments  of  Jesus  Christ,  at  that  period  teaching  the  idea  of  the 
infinite  perfections  of  God,  and  never  saying  anything  inconsistent 
with  that  idea. 

But  look  at  the  facts,  and  see  what  the  others  teach  about  God 
which  implies  a  limitation  in  his  idea  of  God.  He  tells  men  to  "fear 
him  (God),  which  is  able  to  destroy  soul  and  body  in  hell"  (Matthew 


400  *  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

x.  28).  This  (with  its  parallels)  is  the  only  place  in  which  Jesus 
.commands  men  to  fear  God.  And  this  alone  might  easily  enough  be 
explained  away,  but  in  other  places  the  character  of  God  is  represented 
as  worthy  of  fear  more  than  loverf  e.g.  Matthew  xviii.  23-35  ;  xxi.  44 ; 
xxii.  11-14 ;  xxiv.  48-51 ;  and  xxv.  30.  I  think  in  the  New  Testa 
ment  there  is  no  indication  of  the  idea  that  the  suifering  of  the  wicked 
in  the  next  life  is  for  the  good  of  the  wicked  themselves :  it  is  vengeance, 
and  not  medicine,  that  they  smart  under.  I  think  the  Evangelists 
believed  that  Christ  taught  the  eternity  of  torment  in  hell,  otherwise 
I  cannot  explain  such  passages  as  Mark  ix.  43-48 ;  xxv.  41-46 ;  Luke 
xvi.  25-26.  Good  and  holy  men  try  to  explain  away  sudi  passages, 
and  so  violate  the  language  they  ought  to  interpret,  because  the  idea 
of  eternal  damnation,  or  of  any  torment  which  is  not  for  the  welfare 
of  the  man  who  suffers  it,  is  too  atrocious  for  us  to  accept.  This  alone 
shows  that  Jesus  did  not  conceive  of  God  as  infinitely  perfect,  as  it 
seems  to  me. 

Then :  the  fact  that  Jesus  believed  in  a  Devil,  an  actual  personal  Devil, 
seems  to  me  abundantly  plain,  if  we  can  trust  his  biographers.  The 
account  of  the  Temptation  presupposes  this  existence,  and  that  in  the 
most  literal  kind.  But  I  pass  over  that.  In  that  beautiful  prayer 
which  is  so  deep  that  the  world  prays  it,  the  petition,  "  Deliver  us  from 
evil,"  means  from  an  evil  one  (i.  e.  the  Devil).  The  same  word  is  used 
in  the  same  sense  in  Matthew  xiii.  19.  It  is  he,  the  Devil,  that  sows 
tares  in  the  field,  and  so  is  the  rival  of  God  (xiii.  38-39).  Nay,  as 
"  many  are  called,  and  but  few  chosen,"  so  it  would  appear  that  he  was 
the  successful  rival  of  God,  and  got  more  souls  than  the  Father  Himself 
at  the  end  of  the  world.  But  it  is  needless  to  cite  passages  to  show 
that  Christ  believed  the  actual  existence  of  a  Devil  and  devils  (t.  e. 
demons)  that  "  possessed "  men ;  the  whole  thing  is  so  plain  and 
obvious  that  it  needs  no  argument. 

Now,  if  there  be  a  Devil,  absolutely  evil,  and  so  eternally  evil,  then, 
so  far  as  he  has  any  power  at  all,  he  checks  the  power  of  God  and  hin 
ders  Him  from  accomplishing  his  purpose.  So  God  is  not  infinite  in 
power.  But  if  there  be  such  a  Devil,  then  God  must  have  made  that 
Devil ;  and  if  God  made  such  a  Devil  absolutely  evil,  it  could  only  have 
been  out  of  evil  in  God  Himself.  Then,  God  could  not  be  infinite  in 
wisdom,  or  in  justice,  or  in  love  and  holiness ;  for  a  Being  perfectly 
wise,  just,  loving,  and  holy,  could  not  make  a  being  perfectly  unwise, 
unjust,  unloving,  and  unholy.  If  God  be  infinitely  perfect,  then  there 
can  be  no  absolute  evil  in  the  world,  no  evil  that  does  not  come  to  serve 
a  good  purpose  at  the  last.  You  and  I  stumbled  when  learning  to  use 
our  legs  in  childhood,  and  got  hurt  in  the  fall ;  we  stumble  in  learning 
to  use  our  higher  powers,  and  get  hurt  by  the  error  or  the  sin.  But  the 
stumble  of  the  child  and  the  sin  of  the  man  must  alike  have  been  fore 
seen  by  God,  and  are  alike  accidents  of  development,  requiring  no  Devil 
as  author  of  the  child's  stumble  or  the  man's  sin.  You  and  1  have  out 
grown  the  first  form  of  mistake,  and  walk  erect ;  the  little  hurts  we  got 
in  our  fall  made  us  take  better  heed.  So  we  shall  outgrow  the  moral 
stumbling  ;  and  the  pain  of  our  error,  the  smart  of  our  sin,  will  make 
us  take  better  heed,  and  so  the  suffering  be  medicine. 
•  I  think  Jesus  had  a  feeling  of  the  infinity  of  God,  and  hence  the 
grand  and  beautiful  words  of  comfort  that  he  speaks,  which  are  the 


THEODORE   PARKER,  401 

things  that  you  doubtless  value  most  in  the  New  Testament.  Such 
passages  as  these,  Matthew  v.  3-12,  23-24,  43-44  ;  vii.  7-12 ;  ix.  13  ; 
xi.  28-30  ;  xviii.  11-14,  21-22  ;  xx.  25-27  ;  xxii.  37-39,  &c.  &c.  The 
marvellous  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  in  Luke  xv.  11,  is  a  most  touch 
ing  example  of  the  same  thing. 

I  have  the  greatest  reverence  for  Jesus,  the  greatest  gratitude  and 
love,  and  feel  the  vast  obligations  we  all  owe  to  him,  perhaps  no  man 
more  so ;  but  I  love  and  reverence  him  for  what  he  is,  not  for  what  he 
is  not.  I  know  how  these  opinions  will  shock  men,  but  must  take  up 
that  cross  also,  and  bear  it  as  I  can. 

TO   A    FRIEND. 

Oct.  5,  1858. 

Many  thanks  for  your  interesting  letter,  with  the  reminders  of  nume 
rous  friends  you  met.  G-urowski  is  a  man  of  great  talents,  of  truly  wide 
and  deep  historic  learning.  I  know  few  men  that  are  his  equals  in 
respect  to  these  things.  He  and  I  have  often  picked  that  crow — the 
diversity  of  races.  He  does  not  satisfy  me,  nor  I  him.  Perhaps  both 
of  us  are  a  little  wrong,  only  I  see  his  error  and  not  mine. 

Buckle  did  read  many  poor  books,  but  it  was  unavoidable.  To  cross 
the  Continent,  we  must  go  through  much  poor  land,  which  yields 
nothing  to  the  artist  or  the  man  of  science.  The  charm  of  Buckle  is — 
his  poor  books  don't  hurt  him. 

Since  I  saw  you,  I,  too,  have  had  a  little  journey  in  an  open  wagon, 
with  Mr.  Lyman.  We  drove  about  700  miles  in  New  England  and  New 
York  State — the  Hudson  Biver  Valley.  We  were  in  the  open  air  about 
ten  or  twelve  hours  a-day,  and  saw  the  farmers  and  mechanics  of  the 
small  towns.  I  saw  but  one  American  drunk  in  all  the  journey  ;  not  a 
ragged  native,  or  his  windows  stuffed  with  old  clothes.  The  evidences 
of  industry,  thrift,  temperance,  intelligence,  and  comfort,  were  a  happy 
surprise,  even  to  me,  though  I  am  pretty  familiar  with  New  England. 
We  kept  in  the  small  towns,  and  slept  only  once  in  a  "  first-class  hotel " 
at  Albany. 

If  I  were  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  I  would  visit  all  the  gaols,  all 
the  asylums,  State  almshouses,  and  other  public  institutions.  I  would 
set  my  mortal  bodily  eye  on  them  all,  and  see,  and  know  how  the 
State's  hired  men  did  their  work.  All  the  normal  schools,  likewise,  all  the 
teachers'  conventions  would  I  visit.  Of  course  I  would  not  neglect  the 
farmers'  show,  the  mechanics'  show,  or  the  soldier  show.  I  liked  Banks's 
speech  much.  We  have  too  much  neglected  the  militia;  we  may 
need  the  armed  men  when  we  little  think  of  it.  I  hate  the  armies  of 
Europe — -putting  the  destroyer  or  the  defender  before  the  great  crea 
tive  classes  who  manage  the  thought  and  toil  which  give  us  all  desirable 
things. 

TO   GEOEGE   RIPLET. 

Boston,  NOT.  19,  1858. 

MY  DEAB  GEOBGE, — What  a  troublesome  correspondent  I  prove  to 
you  !  With  this  note  you  will  receive  the  third  edition  (stereotype)  of 
my  translation  of  De  Wette's  "  Introduction  to  the  Old  Testament." 

27 


402  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

It  has  never  received  any  reasonable  notice  in  America,  for  it  favors 
the  truth  and  not  the  prejudice  of  any  sect.  It  has  never  had  a  friendly 
word  said  for  it  in  any  American  journal. 

*  *  *  #  *  * 

Let  me  say  a  word  about  the  work. 

I.  Of  the  Original. 

It  is  the  most  learned,  the  most  exact,  and  the  most  critical  introduc 
tion  to  the  Old  Testament  ever  made  in  any  tongue.  It  contains  the 
result  of  all  the  critical  investigation  of  the  human  race  on  that  subject, 
up  to  the  date  of  his  last  edition.  Since  then  no  important  additions 
have  been  made  to  the  science  of  biblical  introduction,  except  as  fol 
lows  : — 

1.  The  learned  researches  of  Mr.  Movers,  a  German  Catholic  priest, 

at  Breslau,  on  the  Phoenicians,  have  shed  new  light  on  the  Books 
of  Chronicles,  Jeremiah,  and  some  other  passages  in  the  Old 
Testament.  But  what  he  has  adduced  belongs  more  to  commen 
taries  than  to  an  introduction. 

2.  The  labors  of  Mr.  Ewald,  a  man  of  genius  and  enormous  learn 

ing,  clear  up  some  dark  things  in  Hebrew  history.  He  gives 
his  conjectures  on  the  composition  of  the  Pentateuch,  but  he  is 
so  subjective  and  capricious  that  his  works  are  vitiated  by  uncer 
tainty.  Still,  he  saw  some  things  which  De  Wette  saw  not. 

3.  Recent  researches  in  Egypt  (Lepsius',  &c.,  I  mean),  may  hereafter 

give  some  help  in  biblical  introductions,  but  not  yet. 

4.  Light  may  come  out  of  the  Assyrian  darkness  at  Nineveh,  and 

shine  on  obscure  things  in  the  Bible.  But  it  has  not  reached 
us  yet. 

"With  these  exceptions,  the  original  of  De  Wette  bears  the  same  re 
lation  to  the  actual  learning  of  the  age  as  in  1842  and  1843. 

II.  Of  the  Translation. 

1.  I  read  the  original  carefully,  studied  it  (beginning  in  1836),  and 

the  new  editions,  as  they  successively  appeared  till  1843. 

2.  I  translated  the  work  word  for  word. 

3.  I  read  up  on  the  subject  thus  : — 

(1.)  All  the  previous  introductions  of  the  Old  Testament,  from 

Simon  down  to  Hengstenberg.     That  was  a  labor. 
I  (2.)  All  the  early  Christian  writers  (Fathers,  &c.)  who  treated 

of  such  matters  down  to  Jerome  and  Augustine ;  that 
also  took  some  time. 

(3.)  I  read  all  the  modern  works  relating  thereto — often  a 
weariness. 

(4.)  I  added  from  those  what  I  found  necessary,  to  make  the 
matter  as  clear  to  the  popular   audience  I   hoped  to 
address,  as  the  original  was  to  the  learned  reader  of 
De  Wette  himself. 
I  popularized  the  original  thus : — 

(1.;  I  translated  in  the  text  all  the  Latin,  Greek,  arid  Hebrew 
(Rabbinical)  passages  which  De  Wette  put  in  without 
translating,  and  I  put  the  original  extracts  into  the 
margin.  It  was  a  pretty  piece  of  work,  you  may  guess 


THEODOKE   PARKER.  403 

to  do  into  English  the  awful  Latin  and  Greek  of  the 
old  choughs  who  wrote  so  barbarously  ! 

(2.)  I  looked  over  the  references  to  the  Bible.  Where  he 
said,  "comp.  Isa.  ix.  1,  with  Jer.  xlv.  16,"  I  printed 
the  passages  side  by  side,  sometimes  in  the  common 
translation,  sometimes  in  Noyes's,  and  sometimes  in  my 
own.  Thus  I  made  easy  and  obvious  what  else  were 
difficult  and  obscure. 

Now,  if  yon  will  give  some  little  notice  of  the  book,  I  will  consider 
that  you  renew  the  right  hand  of  fellowship  once  extended  me. 
Good  bye. 

T. 

TO   DR.    R.    L.    HOWARD,    COLUMBUS,   OHIO. 

Boston,  April  30,  1849. 

DEAB  SIR, — Tour  letter  reached  me  to-day.  I  cannot  suffer  any 
business  or  any  weariness  to  prevent  me  from  answering  it  before  I 
sleep.  I  thank  you  for  the  candor  with  which  you  write.  I  confess 
my  work  seems  to  me  somewhat  fearful ;  it  did  so  when  I  -began  it,  and 
I  was  often  tempted  to  be  silent,  for  I  saw  what  a  revolution  would 
take  place,  suddenly  or  slowly,  in  the  popular  theology.  If  my  prin 
ciples  were  true,  I  saw  that  a  mountain  of  rubbish  must  be  swept 
away ;  that  many  reputations,  many  hopes,  many  institutions,  likewise, 
were  based  on  that  mountain  of  rubbish,  and  of  course  must  perish 
with  their  foundation.  I  saw  that  many  men  would  look  on  me  as  the 
enemy  of  religion,  and  so  as  the  enemy  of  mankind ;  that  some  would 
think  that,  while  I  opposed  the  folly  of  so  much  which  men  had  be 
lieved  in  as  religion,  there  was  no  reality  at  all  for  religion.  But,  at 
the  same  time,  I  had  a  strong  confidence  that  what  was  true  was  also 
safe  ;  that  falsehood  was  not  safe.  I  thought  I  could  show  men  that 
the  popular  theology  had  no  natural,  at  least  no  indissoluble,  connec 
tion  with  true  religion ;  that  underneath  the  shifting  sands  of  sectarian 
theology  there  lay  the  eternal  rock  of  religion.  I  have  never  been 
sorry  that  I  undertook  the  work ;  indeed,  I  could  not  have  forborne 
if  I  would.  I  have  felt  the  loneliness  which  you  speak  of;  that 
comes  from  breaking  away  from  early  associations  and  tender  ties. 
But  that  has  long  since  passed  away  ;  still,  I  do  not  like  to  be  hated, 
as  I  sometimes  have  been. 

I  have  been  compelled  to  pull  down ;  but  I  have  no  delight  in  that 
work.  It  has  always  been  painful.  I  did  it  only  that  something  better 
might  be  built  up  in  place  of  what  but  cumbered  the  ground  before. 
I  saw  that  religion  was  natural  to  man  ;  the  infinite  goodness  of  God 
I  could  never  doubt ;  the  connection  between  God  and  man  seemed  to 
me  so  obvious,  so  essential  to  the  nature  of  each,  that  I  wondered  any 
man  could  doubt  of  these  facts.  The  more  I  live,  the  greater  religion 
appears,  the  more  attractive,  the  more  satisfying,  the  more  beautiful. 
But  it  seems  plainer  and  plainer  that  religion  is  one  thing,  and  the 
books  written  about  it  quite  a  different  'thing.  At  one  time  the  Bible 
rested  on  me  like  a  nightmare  ;  I  could  not  bear  it  nor  get  rid  of  it ; 
now  that  I  take  a  different  view  of  it,  the  imperfections  which  I  find 


404  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

in  both  the  Testaments  no  longer  disturb  me,  and  the  truths  T  find  in 
both  are  the  more  welcome,  because  I  feel  free  to  come  and  to  go,  free 
to  examine  and  satisfy  my  own  mind  and  conscience,  before  I  accept 
the  conclusions  of  men  who  lived  in  another  age  and  wrote  from  a 
different  point  of  view. 

I  think  I  understand  the  circumstances  in  which  you  are  placed.  It 
requires  not  a  little  heroism  to  do  as  you  seem  disposed  to  do.  But 
who  can  be  contented  with  a  divided  heart  ?  You  do  not  lose  your 
sympathy  with  the  religion  of  your  old  associates,  only  with  their  theo 
logy.  In  all  that  is  real  piety,  love  of  G-od,  or  real  goodness,  love 
of  man,  you  will  sympathise  with  them  the  more.  Still,  I  suppose  men 
not  much  enlightened  will  think  ill  of  you,  and  speak  harshly  of  your 
name.  Sometimes  it  requires  a  little  charity  to  be  just  to  men  who, 
from  their  ignorance,  are  unjust  to  us,  but  such  charity  is  twice  blessed. 
I  hope  my  poor  book  will  do  no  harm,  but  some  little  good  to  mankind. 
It  would  be  a  comfort  to  think  that  I  had  helped  men  in  the  way  to 
religion,  and  all  it  brings ;  even  to  have  helped  a  little.  I  have  no 
doubt  committed  many  errors,  which,  of  course,  must  do  harm.  I  hope 
they  will  be  exposed,  and  left  to  perish.  Now  and  then,  some  one  writes 
me  a  letter  like  yours,  which  shows  me  that  I  have  not  spoken  in  vain ; 
altogether,  we  may  all  be  grateful  for  the  liberal  spirit  of  this  age, 
which  allows  men  to  keep  their  heads  on  their  shoulders,  while  these 
heads  are  full  of  thoughts  which  must  work  a  revolution  in  the  world. 
But  let  me  not  weary  a  busy  man  with  a  letter  over-long.  I  will  send 
the  Review,  as  you  suggest,  and  such  of  my  sermons  as  are  still  on 
hand,  though  I  lament  that  some  which  I  value  most  are  out  of  print. 
If  I  can  ever  be  of  any  service  to  you  I  shall  be  glad,  and  am, 

Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PAEKEB. 


TO  P.  D.  MOORE. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  Christian  world  has  honestly  made  two  great 
mistakes,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  mankind :  namely, — 

I.  They  consider  that  God  is  finite.  In  our  time  they  do  not  say  so 
in  so  many  words,  yet,  when  they  come  to  speak  of  his  works  and 
motives,  it  continually  leaks  out  that  they  think  so.  Hence  comes  the 
notion  of  the  wrath  of  God,  of  vindictive  punishment,  of  eternal  hell, 
of  God  changing  his  plans,  either  directly,  as  related  in  the  Bible,  or 
indirectly,  by  miracles,  such  as  are  spoken  of  in  the  Bible  and  the  reli 
gious  books  of  most  of  the  nations.  The  belief  in  miracles  rests  on  two 
things.  1.  A  Deity  who  can  control  the  material  world ;  but,  2,  a 
world  previously  shaped  by  this  Deity  in  so  poor  a  way  that  it  does  not 
answer  his  intentions,  and  he,  therefore,  must  alter  it  to  suit  the  par 
ticular  purpose  in  hand.  The  alteration  is  not  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  thing,  as  the  blossom  of  the  bud,  and  the  fruit  of  the  flower ; 
but  against  the  nature  of  the  thing,  as  a  man  born  with  no  human 
father,  an  ass  speaking  Hebrew,  and  the  like.  The  notion  of  a  miracu 
lous  revelation  made  to  man  rests  on  this  previous  thought,  namely,  that 
God  had  made  man  so  poorly  at  the  first,  that  he  would  not  ascertain  the 


THEODORE   PARKER.  405 

religious  truths  needful  for  the  safe  conduct  of  his  life,  and  so  God  must 
by  miracles  supply  the  defect  of  nature,  that  is,  He  must  alter  and 
mend  what  He  made  badly  at  first.  The  Bible  represents  the  world  as 
not  turning  out  as  God  expected.  The  common  notion  of  the  Christian 
pulpit  is,  that  mankind  is  a  disappointment  to  God ;  the  world  is  not 
what  He  meant  it  to  be.  All  this  comes  from  the  imperfect  idea  men 
have  of  God, — of  God  as  finite. 

II.  They  conceive  of  religion  as  something  unnatural  to  man.  In 
human  nature  there  is  either  too  much,  something  to  be  cut  off, 
members  of  the  body  to  be  mutilated,  as  in  the  Hebrew  Church  ;  then 
of  the  spirit  to  be  mutilated,  as  in  the  Christian  Church,  where  the 
reason  is  thought  a  dangerous  thing,  and  all  good  Catholics  or  Pro 
testants  are  to  circumcise  that,  and  cast  it  from  them;  or  else  too 
little ;  so  something  must  be  added  in  opposition  to  human  nature.  This 
is  a  second  birth,  or  a  gift  of  the  spirit,  which  does  not  mean  a  develop 
ment  of  the  original  faculties  we  are  born  with,  but  the  acquisition  of 
qualities  from  some  foreign  source — -from  God  or  Christ.  Then  the 
deeds  demanded  in  the  name  of  religion  are  not  such  as  are  the  flower 
and  beauty  of  human  nature ;  they  are  not  natural  perfections,  but 
things  often  against  nature.  The  conventional  sacraments,  which  are 
thought  to  make  a  man  a  "  good  Mahometan,"  or  a  "  good  Catholic," 
or  a  "  good  Jew,"  or  a  "  good  Calvinist,"  are  things  not  needful  to  make 
him  a  good  man.  The  man  is  put  down ;  the  sectarian  is  put  up.  The 
consequences  of  this  mistake  as  to  the  nature  of  religion  are  seen  all 
about  us.  There  are  noble  men  in  every  sect ;  but  the  sects  themselves 
seem  to  me  working  with  poor  tools,  and  not  trying  to  do  the  thing 
most  needful  to  have  done.  We  want  men,  not  Mahometans,  Catholics, 
and  Protestants. 

I  take  it,  the  remedy  for  these  two  evils  is  simply  the  true  idea  of 
God,  the  true  idea  of  religion,  and  a  life  in  accordance  therewith. 

I.  God  is  not  finite,  but  infinite — a  Being  of  perfect  power,  wisdom, 
justice,  love,  and  holiness.     Doubtless,  God  possesses  other  perfections 
of  which  we  have  no  idea.     "We,  having  no  corresponding  power  of 
conceptions  but  these,  make  up  our  idea  of  a  perfect  being — the  infinite 
Being.     Then  He  must  be  perfect  cause  and  perfect  providence.     He 
must  make  and  administer  the  universe — including  matter  and  spirit 
and  each  creature  therein — from  a  perfect  motive,  for  a  perfect  purpose, 
and  use  a  perfect  means  thereto.     Of  course,  the  work  would   not 
require  alteration  and  amendment,  in  whole  or  in  parts.      It  would  re 
quire  only  development.     Then  all  notions  of  the  wrath  of  God,  of  the 
jealousy  of  God,  of  his  changing  his  plans,  of  his  hating  men,  of  eternal 
damnation,  and  the  like,  must  end  at  once.     Everything  is  insured 
against  ultimate  shipwreck  at  the  office  of  the  infinite  God.     His  hand 
is  endorsed  on  all  that  is. 

II.  Eeligion  is  natural  to  man ;  I  make  it  to  consist  of  two  things, 
namely,  1st,  piety,  our  consciousness  of  God  and  of  our  relation  to  Him 
in  its  perfect  form,  this  absolute  love  of  God,  absolute  faith  in  God, 
and  absolute  delight  in  God ;  and,  2nd,  morality,  the  keeping  of  all 
the  natural  laws  of  the  human  constitution  in  all  the  relations  of  life. 
Thus,  then,  religion  taken  as  a  whole  in  the  service  of  the  infinite  God 
by  the  normal  action  of  every  faculty  of  the  spirit,  intellectual,  moral, 


406  LIFE   OF   THEODORE   PARKER. 

• 

affectional,  and  religious;  every  limb  of  the  body,  every  power  we 
possess  over  matter  or  over  men  ;  this  religion  will  appear  in  all  forms 
of  singular  or  associated  action,  in  the  life  of  the  individual,  the  family, 
the  community,  the  State,  the  Church,  and  the  world  of  nations. 

To  awaken  this  idea  of  G-od  in  the  souls  of  men,  and  to  induce  them 
to  live  out  such  an  idea  of  religion,  that,  my  dear  sir,  is  a  great  and 
noble  work ;  but  it  will  be  done  by  the  prayers,  the  tears,  and  the  toil 
of  earnest  and  noble  men.  I  wish  you  much  joy  in  this  manly  under 
taking. 

Tours  sincerely, 

THEODOEE  PABKEB. 

TO    MASTER   WASSERBOHR,    AT   THE    LATIN    SCHOOL,    BOSTON. 

Montreux,  Canton  de  Yaud,  Suisse,  September  2,  1859. 

DEAB  MASTER  WASSEBBOHB, — I  was  quite  glad  to  hear  of  your 
progress  at  school,  and  of  the  welfare  of  your  father  and  mother  and 
all  the  family.  I  often  think  of  your  fighting  your  way  along  at  the 
Latin  School,  and  overcoming  both  the  difficulties  of  the  Roman  and 
the  English  languages  at  the  same  time.  When  Mr.  Gardner,  at  your 
request,  put  you  into  a  higher  class,  I  hope  the  additional  studies 
were  not  too  much  for  you,  and  that  you  went  on  with  fresh  heart 
and  strong  hope.  Nothing  can  be  done  without  regular  persistent 
industry, — 

"  Labor  improbus  omnia  vincit." 

The  talent  of  work  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  all ;  without  it  no  other 
brings  much  to  pass.  At  your  time  of  life,  two  things  require  to  be 
specially  attended  to ;  one  is  attention,  the  power  of  fixing  the  mind  on 
what  concerns  it,  as  steadily  as  an  auger  bores  into  a  log ;  the  other  is 
memory,  the  power  of  keeping  what  you  get,  and  reproducing  it  when 
needed.  These  are  the  two  great  things  you  must  cultivate  now ;  if 
you  do  it  faithfully,  you  will  find  by-and-bye,  that  you  can  master  a 
book  by  reading  it  once,  and  remember  all  the  good  things  that  are  in  it. 
Other  intellectual  powers  will  come  into  play  later.  Of  course,  the 
imagination  always  has  work  to  do.  It  is  a  good  plan  for  you  before 
you  go  to  sleep  at  night,  to  think  over  all  you  have  seen,  and  heard,  and 
dojje,  and  thought  in  the  day ;  that  will  help  to  fix  the  attention,  and 
confirm  the  memory,  and,  besides,  it  has  inestimable  moral  advantages, 
for  you  can't  fail  to  ask  of  all,  "  Is  it  right,  or  is  it  wrong  ?  "  Indeed, 
education  must  be  of  the  moral  and  religious  powers,  as  well  as  of  the 
intellect :  a  good  scholar,  who  is  also  a  bad  boy,  is  a  shameful  monster. 
Of  course,  you  don't  forget  your  play ;  few  boys  do  that.  But  you 
must  take  great  care  to  keep  good  firm  health ;  a  sick  scholar  is  a  good- 
for-nothing — about  as  worthless  as  a  horse  with  but  three  legs,  who 
needs  propping  up  at  one  corner  in  order  that  he  may  stand  still. 

Bemember  me  to  your  father  and  mother,  and  believe  me  always, 
»  ,f  Tour  friend, 

THEODOBE  PABKEB. 

We  have  some  Holsteiners  boarding  here  at  the  same  house  with  us, 
intelligent  people. 


THE   MUSIC   HALL. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Twenty-Eighth  Congregational  Society— The  Music  Hall — Preaching— The  Fraternity. 

THE  engraving  represents  the  interior  of  the  Music  Hall  during 
the  lifetime  of  Mr.  Parker.  It  is  at  present  (1863)  in  the  hands 
of  mechanics  and  decorators,  who  are  refitting  it  for  the  recep 
tion  of  the  great  organ  which  has  been  built  in  Germany  for  the 
Music-Hall  Association,  at  a  cost,  as  finished  in  Germany,  of 
25,000  dollars  (^5000).  The  Twenty-eighth  Society  is  wor 
shipping  elsewhere,  and  will  not  probably  return  to  the  Hall 
after  its  re-opening. 


408  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

The  project  of  erecting  a  hall  in  Boston  for  musical  entertain 
ments  was  the  subject  of  frequent  discussion,  which  had  no 
result,  until  a  committee  of  the  Harvard  Musical  Association 
took  the  matter  in  hand,  and  secured  the  amount  required, 
1  00,000  dollars,  for  the  purchase  of  land  and  the  erection  of  a 
building.  A  vacant  lot  of  ground,  known  as  the  Bumstead 
Estate,  and  a  small  adjoining  lot,  comprising  in  all  1 6,642  square 
feet,  with  an  entrance  from  Bumstead  Place  and  one  from  Winter 
Street,  were  purchased.  The  passage  way  from  Winter  Street 
is  1 5  feet  wide  and  110  feet  long. 

The  greatest  care  was  taken  in  elaborating  the  plans  for  this 
noble  building.  Mr.  Snell,  the  architect,  submitted  his  designs 
to  competent  judges,  such  as  J.  Scott  Russell  and  Dr.  Faraday 
in  England,  the  former  a  distinguished  architect,  the  latter  a  man 
well  versed  in  all  that  was  then  knowable  on  the  difficult  point 
of  acoustics.  The  result  was  the  finest  building  in  America  for 
its  special  purpose,  and  stately  and  convenient  for  all  the  objects 
of  a  popular  assembly. 

The  main  hall  is  130  feet  long,  78  feet  wide,  and  65  feet 
high.  In  the  day-time  it  is  lighted  by  semi-circular  windows 
on  either  side,  above  a  cornice  that  is  50  feet  from  the  floor  ;  by 
night  the  cornice  of  the  four  walls  springs  into  jets  of  flame. 
There  is  a  passage-way  in  the  wall  large  enough  for  a  man  to 
move  along  in  lighting. 

The  ceiling  is  deeply  moulded  into  diamond- shaped  spaces, 
which  are  flat,  and  of  a  blue  color.  Arches  spring  to  it  from 
the  pilasters  of  Corinthian  capitals  ;  and  between  them  are  the 
windows.  Two  rows  of  balconies  with  latticed  fronts  extend 
around  three  sides  ;  there  are  fourteen  doors  to  each.  The  floor, 
covered  with  oval-backed  chairs  of  stuffed  damask,  each  with  its 
porcelain  number-plate,  will  seat  1500  people:  fourteen  doors 
empty  the  audience  into  ample  corridors.  A  faint  rose-color 
prevails  over  the  whole  interior  of  the  building. 

The  stage  is  five  feet  from  the  floor,  with  a  level  foreground, 
whence  it  rises  in  seven  steps,  the  whole  width  of  the  hall,  to  a 
gilded  screen  of  wood-work  in  the  centre  of  one  end.  At  first 
a  small  organ  that  was  used  in  the  Melodeon  was  concealed  be 
hind  this  screen.  The  stage-steps  might  accommodate  500  people, 
and  the  whole  building  would  comfortably  seat  2700. 

When  the  audience  was  perfectly  still,  the  ordinary  voice  of  a 
speaker  could  be  heard  with  ease ;  but  every  little  sound  in  the 


THEODORE   PARKER.  409 

body  of  the  house  accumulated  so  readily  as  to  blur  the  sentences 
coming  from  the  stage.  The  clapping  of  the  two-and-forty  doors 
was  sometimes  a  great  annoyance,  but  generally  there  reigned  a 
silence  so  eager  and  deferential  when  Mr.  Parker  preached,  that 
his  level,  conversational  style  could  be  heard  with  ease ;  and  it 
was  only  towards  the  close  of  his  services  that  his  speech  was 
sometimes  marred  by  belated  or  impatient  listeners. 

On  one  of  the  stage-steps  stands  Crawford's  bronze  statue  of 
Beethoven,  presented  to  the  Association  by  Charles  C.  Perkins, 
of  Boston.  It  was  cast  at  Munich,  on  the  2 6th  of  March,  1855, 
the  anniversary  of  Beethoven's  death,  and  placed  in  its  present  posi 
tion,  with  appropriate  ceremonies,  chief  of  which  was  a  poem  of 
great  vigour  and  beauty  by  Wm.  W.  Story,*  on  the  evening  of 
March  1,  1856.  It  is  seven  feet  high,  of  yellow,  almost  golden, 
bronze.  The  head  is  erect,  and  the  face  has  a  firm,  earnest,  and 
inward  look.  The  neck  is  open,  and  a  large  cloak  is  thrown 
over  the  right  shoulder.  The  hands  are  crossed,  lightly  dropped 
before  him  ;  the  left  holds  the  score  of  the  Choral  Symphony, 
and  the  right  holds  over  it  a  pen.  On  the  score  are  the  first 
notes  of  the  strain 

"  Freude,  schone  Gotterfunken," 

the  opening  line  of  Schiller's  Song  to  Joy,  and  the  first  of  the 
Chorus  in  the  Ninth  Symphony. 

The  seal  of  the  Music-Hall  Association  is  a  figure  of  St. 
Cecilia,  with  a  motto  that  was  furnished  by  Mr.  Parker  : — 

Ccelo  venit  aurea  dextro,f 
which  he  translated, — 

She  comes,  resplendent,  from  auspicious  skies. 

Here  is  Mr.  Parker's  prayer  on  Sunday,  March  2,  the  day 
after  the  unveiling  of  the  statue,  privately  reported : — 

0  Thou  infinite  Spirit  who  fillest  the  air  that  is  about  us,  and  the 
ground  underneath  our  feet,  and  the  heavens  above  our  head  ;  and  who 
Thyself  art  the  Spirit  whereby,  wherein,  we  live  and  move  and  have  our 
being ;  we  would  draw  near  unto  Thee,  who  art  never  withdrawn  from 
us,  and  feeling  Thine  infinite  presence  in  our  heart  and  soul,  would 
worship  with  our  morning  prayer,  that  we  may  serve  Thee  in  our 
daily,  nightly,  long-continued  flight. 
•O  Thou,  who  art  the  life  of  all  things  that  live,  and  the  being  of 

*  Son  of  Chief  Justice  Story,  of  Massachusetts,  and  sculptor  of  Cleopatra,  The  Sybil, 
and  other  noble  works,  including  the  bust  of  Mr.  Parker  which  is  given  in  this  Memoir, 
•f  From  Manilius  :  Astronom.  Liber  N.,  p.  539. 


410  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

whatsoever  are,  we  pray  Thee  that  Thine  infinite  soul  may  stir  us  in 
our  poor  prayer,  and  quickened  by  Thine  infinite  life,  may  re-ascend  in 
our  aspiring  flight  to  higher  and  higher  nobleness  and  human  growth. 

O  Lord,  we  bless  Thee  for  Thy  providence,  which  broods  over  the 
world,  and  blesses  it  with  Thy  fourfold  year.  We  bless  Thee'  for  the 
summers  and  autumns  that  have  gone  by ;  for  the  winter,  whose  bril 
liant  garment  of  resplendent  snow  has  been  so  broadly  spread  across  the 
shoulders  of  the  Continent.  Yea,  Lord,  for  all  the  providence  whereby 
in  winter  Thou  preparest  for  spring,  and  makest  summer  to  be  the 
porch  and  entrance  for  harvests,  autumns  full  of  beauty  and  abound 
ing  in  fruit. 

O  Lord,  Father  and  Mother  of  the  ground,  the  heavens,  and  all 
things  that  are,  we  bless  Thee  for  Thy  loving-kindness  and  Thy  tender 
mercy.  We  thank  Thee  that  Thou  art  kind  and  large  in  Thy  provid 
ence  to  every  created  thing ;  that  from  Thy  hand  we  take  our  daily 
bread,  and  from  Thy  cup  Thou  pourest  out  to  us  all  things  whereby 
we  live  and  are  blessed.  We  thank  Thee  that  Thou  watchest  over  us 
in  our  prosperity,  in  our  distress,  and  followest  the  exile  from  his 
native  land  to  every  home,  giving  the  wanderer  Thy  blessing,  that 
when  despair  comes  to  Thy  children's  heart,  Thou,  who  knowest 
their  weakness,  takest  them  home  to  Thyself,  and  blessest  every 
wanderer  with  Thine  infinite  peace,  whence  no  soul  shall  ever  be 
exiled  long. 

O  Lord,  we  thank  Thee  for  noble  men  Thou  raisest  up  in  the 
world ;  for  those  great  souls  who  proclaim  truth  to  mankind »  for 
those  who  reveal  justice  to  the  earth,  enacting  it  into  laws  and  institu 
tions,  building  up  Thy  righteousness,  Thine  ever-living  truth. 

We  thank  Thee  for  those  great  souls  to  whom  Thou  confidest  the 
precious  charge  of  genius,  blessing  them  with  lofty  gifts.  We  thank 
Thee  for  the  sons  of  song,  who  make  sweet  music  in  the  hearts  of 
men,  and  when  their  own  body  crumbles  to  the  poor  ground,  their 
breath  still  surrounds  the  world  with  an  ever-new  morning  of  melody, 
giving  to  highest  and  lowest,  and  blending  all  into  one  magnificent 
family  of  souls  who  are  lifted  up  by  the  sweet  strains  of  art. 

0  Lord,  we  thank  Thee  also  for  those  sons  of  genius  who,  with 
kindred  power,  stretch  out  their  plastic  hand  over  the  hard  elements 
of  earth,  which  become  pliant  at  their  touch.  Father,  we  thank  Thee 
for  the  creative  genius  of  the  sculptor,  which  folds  a  kindred  genius  in 
brazen  swaddling-bands,  and  so  hands  down  form  and  lineament,  all 
glorified  by  art,  from  age  to  age. 

O  Lord,  we  bless  Thee  for  another  power,  which  is  music  and 
sculpture  to  other  faculties ;  for  the  poet's  kindling  eye,  whose  wide 
embracing  heart  is  vision  and  faculty  divine,  whereby,  to  listening 
crowds,  he  anticipates  the  spontaneous  feelings  of  our  hearts,  and 
makes  perpetual  in  speech  the  transient  feeling  of  an  hour. 

0  Lord,  while  we  thank  Thee  for  those  whom  Thou  hast  blessed 
with  creative  genius  in  the  intellectual  sphere  and  moral,  still  more  do 
we  bless  Thee  for  those  whom  Thou  hast  gifted  with  genius  for  loving- 
kindness  and  tender  mercy,  whose  art  is  the  art  to  love,  and  who 
embalm  in  affection  such  as  are  near  and  dear,  and  put  great,  all- 
embracing  arms  about  the  universe  of  men,  lifting  up  the  fallen, 


THEODORE   PARKER  41  1 

refining  the  low,  raising  those  that  are  dropped  down,  and  encouraging 
the  sons  of  men. 

0  Father,  while  we  bless  Thee  for  the  sons  of  poetry,  the  children 
of  song,  and  those  great  geniuses  born  for  creative  art,  still  more  do 
we  bless  Thee  for  the  dear  fathers  and  loving  mothers,  the  great 
philanthropists  of  the  world,  who  have  blessed  us  with  more  than 
music ;  they  make  perpetual  Thy  thought  which  shall  endure  when 
the  marble  shall  perish,  and  brass  exhale  as  the  vapor,  unseen  and 
forgotten  to  the  sky. 

O  Thou,  who  possessest  manifold  gifts,  we  would  ask  of  Thee  a 
double  portion  of  the  spirit  of  love,  that  while  we  serve  Thee  with 
our  hands,  while  we  honor  Thee  with  our  mind,  while  we  serve  Thee 
with  our  conscience,  we  may  serve  Thee  more  nobly  still  with 
sweet  sacrificing  love.  May  we  so  love  Thee,  O  Lord,  that  we  may 
feel  Thy  perfections  in  us,  Thy  truth  making  us  free,  Thy  law  a  lamp 
to  our  feet,  a  staff  to  our  hands,  and  the  love  which  Thou  bearest  to 
every  mute  and  every  living  thing,  a  great  moral  inspiration  in  our 
souls,  bringing  down  every  vain  thing  which  unduly  exalts  itself, 
making  us  of  cleaner  eyes  than  to  behold  with  favor  iniquity,  and 
setting  our  affections  on  things  divine. 

O  Lord,  help  us  to  love  our  brethren  everywhere ;  not  those  alone 
who  love  us  with  answering  touch  of  joy,  but  those  who  evil  entreat, 
and  persecute,  and  defame  us.  So  we  may  be  like  Thyself,  causing 
Thy  sun  to  shine  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good,  and  raining  Thy  rain  on 
the  just  and  on  the  unjust. 

0  Father,  we  ask  Thee  for  that  gift  all  divine  which  is  righteous 
ness,  and  mercy,  and  love,  in  our  hearts.     May  we  chastise  ourselves 
for  every  mean  and  wicked  thing,  set  our  soul  in  tune  to  the  music  of 
Thine  own  spheres,  and  so,  hand  in  hand  accordant,  journey  round 
the  world,  blessing  without  with-  toilsome  hands,  and  inwardly  blessed 
by  the  spirit  Thou  puttest  in  our  souls.     Amen. 

And  here  are  extracts,  privately  reported  also,  from  the  sermon 
which  he  preached  on  the  same  day,  called  "  Of  the  Culture  of 
the  Affections  •" — 

1  honour  great  power  of  thought,  few  perhaps  more  so.     I  reverence 
with  great  esteem  a  man  of  genius  for  art,  poetry,  science,  practical 
life,  with  executive  power  to  plan  and  build,  to  organize  matter  or  men 
into  forms  of  use  and  beauty.     When  I  meet  with  such  an  one,  spite 
of  me,  down 'go  the   stiff  knees  of  my  veneration.     And  most  spon 
taneously  do  1  bow  to  a  man  of  great  justice,  one  of  the  pillars  of 
righteousness.     I  know  several  such,  whom  the  good  God  has  set  up 
here  and  there  in  great  towns  and  little,  and  I  take  off  my  hat  thereto, 
with  an  inward  relish  of  the  homage  that  I  pay  them,  as  I  shudder  a 
little  with  delight,  as  a  poetic-minded   New-Englander  needs   must 
when  he  first  sees  a  great  antique  temple  of  Grecian  or  Roman  art,  or 
when  he  stands  for  the  first  time  before  the  statue  of  Apollo,  which 
enchants  the  world,  or  Olympian  Jove, — 

which  young  Phidias  wrought. 


Not  from  a  vain  and  shallow  thought, 


412  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

or  when  he  stands  before  this  majestic  figure,  in  which  one  great 
American  artist,  cradled  in  poverty,  has  incarnated  the  lofty  lineaments 
of  another  great  artist,  also  cradled  in  poverty,  who  beforehand  had 
builded  for  himself  a  monument  more  lasting  than  brass,  for  he  had 
carved  out  of  the  unseen  air  a  figure  of  himself,  which  will  endure 
when  this  brass  shall  have  dissolved  itself  into  gases,  and  escaped  into 
the  sky. 

I  say,  when  I  meet  one  of  these  great  pillars  of  justice,  I  take  off  my 
hat,  not  without  a  shudder  of  that  awe,  wherewith  all  men  must  con 
template  the  great  of  life,  or  the  great  of  art.  But  if  I  could  have 
one,  and  only  one,  of  these  three  gifts,  intellectual,  moral,  or  affectional, 
I  would  take  the  latter. 

What  delights  of  affection  there  are !  Love  is  the  great  idealizer  of 
man's  life.  There  are  many  such.  Beauty  is  one,  in  nature  and  art. 
There  is  music,  a  common  and  sweet  idealizer ;  and  "  the  magic  harp 
of  David  soothes  the  haunted  heart  of  Saul."  There  is  also  the  plastic 
art;  and  these  two  are  great  idealizers,  fellow-workers  with  men  in 
the  cause  of  humanity. 

There,  my  friends,  stands  a  new  colleague,  whom  I  welcome  to  the 
work  of  philanthrophy  and  piety.  He  is  ordained  as  colleague,  pastor 
with  myself.  It  is  a  great  honour,  that  I,  prosy  man  as  I  am,  stand  at 
the  feet  of  that  incarnation  alike  of  music  and  poetry  ;  and  when  I  am 
silent,  that  majestic  brow  will  speak  to  you ;  those  eyes,  turned  upward 
and  inward,  will  disclose  to  you  the  vision  through  his  faculty  divine  ; 
and  when  my  hand  writes  not,  that  still  will  be  to  you  emblematic  of 
higher  thoughts  than  I  can  set  to  music  in  poetry  or  speech.  That,  I 
say,  is  one  great  idealizer ;  there  is  a  dearer,  and  that  is  the  love  which 
his  song  represents,  and  which  the  sculptor's  art  would  fail  to  portray. 

Francis,*  deeply  loving  his  kith  and  kin,  and  his  immediate  friends, 
like-minded  men  and  women,  has  yet  a  great,  robust,  broad-footed 
heart  which  travels  out  beyond  individual  persons,  leaps  over  the 
Atlantic  Ocean  even,  and  loves  men  of  diverse  tongue,  other  colour, 
varying  religion,  distinctive  race — loves  even  the  wicked  men  who  per- 
secute  him,  and  casts  the  garment  of  self-denying  charity  on  the 
shoulders  of  men  who  hate  him  the  more  abundantly  that  he  loves 
them. 

The  New  Music  Hall  was  opened  for  the  religious  services  of 
his  parish  for  the  first  time  on  November  21,  1852. 


FROM    THE    JOURNAL. 

What  shall  befall  us,  I  know  not,  the  next  eight  years ;  what  will 
befall  the  country,  what  the  society,  what  me  ?  Dear  God,  Thou  only 
knowest ! 

*  Here,  as  often,  some  living  friend  is  the  hint  on  which  he  speaks, — Francis  Jackson, 
now  departed  into  the  company  of  his  beloved  pastor. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  41  3 

There  was  a  great  audience,  which  made  me  feel  littler  than  ever. 
That  is  the  sad  part  of  looking  such  a  crowd  in  the  face.  Whence 
shall  I  have  bread  to  feed  so  many  ?  I  am  but  the  lad  with  five  barley 
loaves  and  two  small  fishes.  Yet  I  have  confidence  in  my  own 
preaching. 

He  immediately  drew  up  a  "  provisional  scheme"  of  subjects 
to  be  treated  in  sermons,  to  occupy  the  time  till  the  end  of  1856. 
That  is,  he  anticipated  his  subjects  for  four  years,  and  adhered  to 
the  scheme  in  almost  every  particular.  At  the  same  time  he 
began  to  collect  information  under  the  heads  of  some  subjects 
which  required  a  basis  of  facts,  as  for  the  "  Duties  and  Dangers 
of  Woman/'  the  "  Characteristics  of  America,"  the  "  Physical 
Condition  of  Nations,"  some  of  which  were  not  preached  for 
three  years.  Among  other  sermons,  he  premeditated  one  for  the 
first  Sunday  in  March,  1855,  the  85th  anniversary  of  the  Boston 
Massacre,  "  On  the  Ultimate  Triumph  of  the  True  and  Right," 
which  was  delivered  according  to  the  programme. 


FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

Aug.  24,  1853. — I  am  this  day  forty -three  years  old.  I  used  to 
think  I  should  live  as  long  as  my  fathers ;  but  certain  admonitions 
of  late  warn  me  that  I  am  not  to  be  an  old  man.  The  last  three  years 
have  made  great  alterations  in  my  health  and  vigor.  I  write  and  work 
more  with  a  will  than  by  the  spontaneous  impulse  which  once  required 
the  will  to  check  it.  I  neither  grieve  nor  rejoice  at  the  thought  of 
departure.  But  I  will  try  to  keep  my  affairs  in  such  a  condition,  that 
I  can  at  any  time  go  over  the  other  side  when  summoned,  and  leave 
no  perplexity. 

Work  for  the  year. 

I.  Ministerial. 

a.  Parish. 

b.  The  Perishing  and  Dangerous  Classes  of  Boston. 

II.  Non-Ministerial. 

a.  Lectures. 

b.  Article  on  Seward.     Books  upon  Slavery.     Historical  De 

velopment  of  Eeligiori;  finish  Vol.  II.  by  Sept.,  1854, 
if  possible,  and  have  it  in  print. 
Work  for  September. 

I.  Letter  to  the  Unitarian  Association. 

II.  Lectures. 

III.  Paper  on  Seward. 

In  the  great  audience,  sometimes  of  3000  people,  which 
repaired  to  the  Music  Hall  every  Sunday  forenoon,  there  was  a 
small  nucleus  of  devoted  friends  who  constituted  a  parish,  and 
from  whose  ranks  came  all  the  reliable  workers  and  representa- 


414  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

tives  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Congregational  Society.  But  their 
parochial  action  had  nothing  formal  or  conventional :  they  had 
recourse  to  none  of  the  usual  methods  of  preserving  an  ecclesias 
tical  organization.  Kites,  conference-meetings,  prayer-meetings 
and  lectures  gave  place  to  practical  attempts  at  applying  the 
human  doctrines  of  their  great  preacher.  The  Sunday  service 
was  perfectly  simple.  The  desk  raised  upon  one  step,  with 
a  vase  of  flowers  at  the  right  hand  of  Mr.  Parker,  where 
his  fingers  might  touch  and  caress  them ;  the  chair  in  which  he 
sat,  just  in  front  of  the  choir ;  —  these,  and  an  assembly  of 
beating  hearts,  such  as  Boston  never  saw  before,  and  will  hardly 
soon  see  again,  furnished  forth  his  occasion.  No  finical  upholstery 
of  liturgies,  and  chantings,  and  invocations,  and  responses ;  no 
fine  singing,  no  prim  and  well-dressed  silence;  the  costliest  things 
were  the  flowers  and  the  speech :  next  to  the  living  souls  who 
yearned  for  truth,  the  most  imposing  thing  in  the  house  was  a 
Bible,  read  with  natural  joy  and  reverence.  The  most  impres 
sive  thing  in  all  Boston  on  those  famous  Sundays  was  the  moral 
sincerity  of  the  preacher's  voice,  as  it  deepened  from  common-sense 
to  religious  emotion,  or  sparkled  into  indignation  that  was  not 
for  sale,  or  softened  into  sympathy  and  human  pleasure  at  the 
Beautiful  and  the  Good. 

He  read  the  hymn  quietly  and  evenly ;  then  went  forth  the 
breathing  of  those  prayers,  still,  natural,  and  simple,  but  laden 
with  awe,  and  falling  irresistibly  into  every  heart  with  all  the 
glad  weight  of  his  own  joyful  feeling. 

Some  words  from  a  very  dear  friend  and  parishioner  will  be 
found  effective  to  restore  those  Sundays.  They  also  help  us  to 
appreciate  his  personal  and  pastoral  relation  to  those  families  in 
the  great  congregation  whom  he  might  call  his  own  : — 

Those  nearest  to  him  feel  that  the  central  heart  of  his  life,  his 
dearest  and  highest  function,  has  been  most  inadequately  appreciated. 
Others  thought  of  him  as  the  great  theologian,  the  bold  reformer,  the 
accomplished  scholar ;  he  thought  of  himself  as  the  minister  of  the 
Twenty-eighth  Congregational  Society,  the  shepherd  of  a  flock  of 
earnest  souls  who  looked  to  him  for  help,  and  consolation,  and 
guidance  in  all  their  private  griefs  and  difficulties  as  eagerly  as  they 
listened  to  his  deep  and  bold  lessons  on  all  great  public  questions. 
Why  he  has  not  appeared  in  this  light  to  the  literary  world  is  plain  ; 
his  society  was  not  composed  of  learned  and  scientific  men,  but  of 
simple,  practical  people,  whose  life  is  occupied  more  with  action  than 
expression.  I  hope  to  be  pardoned  if  I  cannot  give  utterance  to  my 
views  of  the  great  value  and  importance  of  his  pastoral  relation  without 
personality;  it  is  this  very  close  personal  relation  which  I  wish  to 


THEODORE   PARKER.  415 

prove  and  illustrate.  Even  a  friend  can  speak  of  his  Sunday  Lyceum, 
where  he  harangued  a  promiscuous  audience  on  all  themes  of  thought, 
science,  or  politics,  but  to  Mr.  Parker  it  was  far  otherwise.  He  knew 
that  every  Sunday  a  crowd  of  unknown  persons  were  there  to  hear 
him,  but  to  him  there  was  always  a  central  group  of  well-beloved  faces, 
in  whose  eyes  he  read  all  the  trials  and  struggles  of  the  week.  There 
was  his  "glorious  phalanx  of  old  maids,  on  whose  aid  he  could 
confidently  rely  for  every  work  of  charity  or  mercy."  There  was  his 

St.  M ,  her  face  a  constant  benediction ;  his  beloved  John,  "  who 

idealized  his  life  after  a  day  of  hard  toil  by  providing  for  the  wants  of 
every  poor  child  in  his  neighbourhood  ;"  there  was  the  faithful  clerk, 
who  was,  he  said,  more  important  to  the  society  than  himself;  there 
were  the  grey  heads,  so  precious  in  his  sight ;  the  young  men,  in  whom 
he  saw  the  hope  of  the  country  and  the  world ;  and  the  young  maidens, 
in  whose  culture  and  well-being  he  ever  felt  the  most  paternal  care. 

Who  can  forget  how  he  would  come  into  church,  and  sit  there, 
partially  screened  from  sight  by  the  desk,  and  look  around  on  the  faces 
of  his  congregation  ?  Then  he  gathered  up  from  the  multitude  all  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  the  week — the  tear-dimmed  eye  of  the  mourner; 
the  earnest  struggling  of  a  soul  wrestling  with  temptation  ;  the  new 
joy  of  happy  lovers,  or  a  mother  rejoicing  in  her  firstborn  child — all 
sent  up  their  incense  to  him,  and  he  gathered  their  fragrance  into  his 
heart,  and  bore  it  up  to  God  in  his  prayer.  Nor  did  he  fail  to  bring 
his  own  life  into  the  same  holy  presence.  Who  has  not  at  times  felt 
some  deep  sorrow  or  penitent  tenderness  of  his  own  private  heart 
veiled  in  the  universal  language  of  his  prayer?  Those  early  days  of 
his  ministry  at  the  Melodeon  can  never  be  forgotten  by  those  favoured 
to  share  them.  The  dark,  dingy  building,  with  its  dirty  wails  and 
close  atmosphere,  became  a  holy  temple,  for  it  enshrined  a  living  soul. 
The  cold,  rainy  Sundays  which  succeeded  one  another  so  constantly 
could  not  keep  us  away.  "  How  could  we  bear  the  burden  of  the 
week-,"  said  many  a  listener,  "  without  the  inspiration  of  that  hour  of 
prayer,  of  that  lesson  of  wisdom  and  truth?"  The  constant  offering 
of  flowers  on  the  desk  was  a  beautiful  emblem  of  the  faith  in  and  love 
of  nature  which  so  characterized  his  teachings.  As  spring  advanced,  we 
often  first  saw  the  dear  remembered  friends  in  field  and  grove  on  the 
desk  ;  the  violets  and  barberry-blossoms,  the  purple  rhodora,  the  sweet 
wild-rose,  the  lilies  of  the  valley  (now  sacred  to  us  from  his  last  look 
on  them),  the  fragrant  magnolia,  the  stately  laurel,  the  blue  gentian,  in 
its  autumn  loveliness,  all  came  as  offerings  from  one  or  another  friend. 
Nothing  was  too  precious  or  too  lowly  to  be  laid  at  that  shrine ;  and  as 
the  great  teacher  gathered  lessons  of  divine  wisdom  and  truth  from  the 
lilies  of  the  fields  and  the  grass  of  the  plain,  so  did  he  never  fail  to  point 
some  moral  or  enforce  some  lesson  of  love  and  truth  by  reference  to 
these  beautiful  emblems  of  God's  presence  and  power.  How  sacred 
was  his  feeling  in  regard  to  them,  a  little  circumstance  will  show. 
Being  called  to  the  country  to  pay  the  last  tribute  of  love  and  reverence 
to  a  dear  friend,  he  gathered  some  blue  gentians  from  the  little  brook 
which  ran  before  his  old  home,  and  the  next  Sunday  he  placed  them 
on  the  desk,  and  wrote  to  his  absent  parishioner  how  she,  too,  was  not 
forgotten  by  pastor  or  people  in  their  Sabbath  prayer. 


4  J  6  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

But  we  were  speaking  of  those  old  days  at  the  Melodeon,  dear  to  us 
as  the  first  little  humble  home  of  boyhood,  or  the  first  dwelling  of  a 
married  pair.  We  could  never  have  quite  the  same  feeling  in  the 
ampler  space  and  more  elegant  arrangements  of  the  Music  Hall,  but  it 
made  no  change  in  the  constant  ministry  of  our  friend.  How  many 
incidents  might  be  told  of  those  early  days,  when  his  words  were  so 
strange  and  new  to  many !  "  Well,  I  never  heard  before  that  toads 
were  prophets  and  grass  was  revelations,"  an  old  lady  was  heard  to 
mutter  angrily  as  she  went  out  of  meeting  one  day.  But  to  him  all 
beings  did  preach,  and  all  nature  did  reveal  the  truths  of  the  religion 
he  believed  and  taught. 

One  of  Mr.  Parker's  noblest  efforts  was  his  sermon  on  John  Quincy 
Adams.  The  house  was  densely  crowded,  and  all  were  held  in  rapt 
attention  by  the  tribute,  full  of  glowing  heat,  and  yet  of  manly  truth, 
which  he  paid  to  the  great  departed.  As  he  spoke  of  the  only  blots  on 
the  fair  fame  of  his  hero,  the  snow,  which  covered  and  darkened  the 
roof,  fell  with  a  tremendous  crash,  which  sent  a  thrill  through  the 
audience  and  preacher.  Mr.  Parker  recovered  himself  instantly  and 
added,  "  So  may  the  infamy  slide  off  from  his  character,  and  leave  it 
fair  as  open  daylight!"  As  he  closed,  the  wind,  from  some  unknown 
cause,  sounded  through  the  organ  pipes  a  wild,  sweet  strain,  which 
seemed,  to  our  excited  minds,  like  an  amen  from  the  spirit  of  the 
brave  old  man,  who  accepted  the  bold  and  true  words  which  had  been 
spoken  of  him. 

One  tribute  of  honor  we  can  never  bring  to  Mr.  Parker — that 
which  a  distinguished  lawyer  paid  to  his  reverenced  pastor.*  We  could 
never  fail  to  be  reminded  of  the  whole  week  on  Sunday ;  our  errors, 
our  shortcomings,  our  dangers,  our  blessings,  our  hopes,  trials,  and 
fears,  all  came  up  in  review  before  us,  and  the  words  which  were 
spoken  for  all  seemed  most  special  to  each  one.  Once,  when  preaching 
on  the  forgiveness  of  sin,  and  showing  how  the  infinite  love  of  God  had 
provided  means  of  recovery  for  the  most  guilty  soul,  a  man  in  the 
gallery  suddenly  cried  out,  "  Yes,  I  know  it  to  be  so  !  I  feel  it  to  be 
so  ! "  Mr.  Parker  paused  in  his  sermon  and  addressed  him  in  words 
of  strong  faith  and  assurance.  "  Yes,  my  friend,  it  is  so ;  and  you 
cannot  wander  so  far  but  God  can  call  you  back." 

The  special  event  of  the  day  of  which  his  congregation  were  thinking 
seemed  to  him  the  appropriate  subject  on  which  to  give  them  words  of 
religious  advice,  comfort,  or  warning.  Sometimes  he  waited  a  week 
or  two  for  the  excitement  to  subside,  that  he  might  speak  from  and  to 
a  calmer  mood,  but  he  never  left  such  occasions  unimproved.  In  this 
he  resembled  the  early  Puritans,  to  whom  he  had,  indeed,  much 
likeness.  Who  does  not  remember  the  strength  and  wisdom  of  his 
words  on  occasions  like  those  of  the  trial  of  Professor  Webster,  the 
fugitive  slave  cases,  important  elections,  and  the  commercial  crisis  ? 
He  never  rested  till  he  had  withdrawn  these  startling  facts  from  the 
list  of  exceptional  accidents,  and  shown  how  they  resulted  from  suffi 
cient  causes,  and  were  co-ordinate  with  the  whole  providence  of  the 
Divine  government.  He  did  not  suffer  us  to  believe  that  a  man,  good 

*  To  the  effect,  namely,  that  the  pastor  in  question  never  made  allusions  to  profes 
sional  or  political  iniquity,  but  only  to  the  glittering  generality  of  sin. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  417 

and  pure  in  heart,  became  suddenly  a  murderer  from  the  force  of  an 
untoward  circumstance,  but  showed  us  how  the  yielding  to  minor 
temptations  had  weakened  the  power  of  resistance  to  this  fatal  one. 
And  yet  how  tender  was  his  pleading  and  his  trust  in  God  for  the  poor 
sufferers  !  Many  of  us  then,  for  the  first  time,  realized  that  God  had 
consolation  in  store,  even  for  such  misery. 

When  the  slave  Shadrach  was  arrested,  but  released  by  a  spon 
taneous  movement  of  our  citizens,  the  event  occurred  on  Saturday. 
We  were  still  anxious  on  Sunday  in  regard  to  his  final  escape.  Mr. 
Parker  preached  that  day  an  anniversary  sermon — the  fifth  of  his 
settlement  in  Boston.  At  its  close  he  said,  "  When  I  came  among 
you  I  expected  to  have  to  do  and  to  bear  some  hard  things,  but  I  never 
expected  to  have  to  protect  one  of  my  parishioners  from  slave-hunters, 
nor  to  be  asked  to  read  such  a  note  as  this : — '  Shadrach,  a  fugitive 
slave,  in  peril  of  his  life  and  liberty,  asks  your  prayers  that  God  will 
aid  him  to  escape  out  of  bondage.'  But,"  he  said,  "  he  does  not  need  our 
prayers.  Thank  God !  we  have  heard  of  him  safe,  far  on  his  way  to 
freedom."  I  cannot  describe  the  intense  excitement  of  the  audience. 
For  a  moment  there  was  perfect  silence,  and  it  seemed  as  if  our  hearts 
would  burst  with  the  pressure  of  feeling.  Then  one  spontaneous  shout 
of  applause  re-echoed  through  the  building,  and  gave  us  the  relief  so 
much  needed. 

Here  let  me  say  that,  while  Mr.  Parker  felt  the  genuineness  of  such 
expression  when  inevitable  and  fit,  he  yet  very  much  disliked  the  habit 
of  applause  in  church,  and  kept  it  in  check  by  remonstrance  whenever 
a  disposition  to  indulge  in  it  appeared.  He  was  a  great  lover  of  de 
corum  and  order.  He  always  wore  at  church  the  plain  dark  dress 
which  he  thought  befitting  the  service.  The  Bible  and  hymn-book 
were  laid  in  their  places — everything  was  in  order  before  he  began  to 
speak.  But  he  loved  freedom  and  individuality  also,  and  he  would  not 
suffer  them  to  be  sacrificed  to  his  own  comfort.  How  gentle  was  his 
remonstrance  against  the  noisy  slamming  of  the  forty-four  doors  of  the 
Music  Hall  towards  the  close  of  the  sermon  !  how  patiently  he  took  it 
for  granted  that  only  important  engagements  led  people  to  such  a  viola 
tion  of  good  manners  towards  those  who  held  their  doors  invitingly 
open  to  them !  He  said  to  us  once,  "  I  do  not  like  to  see  people 
reading  books  and  newspapers  before  the  services  commence.  It 
troubles  me  very  much,  and  I  have  often  been  tempted  to  ask  people 
to  abstain  from  it ;  but  I  remember  how  precious  a  half-hour's  reading 
was  to  me  often  when  I  was  a  young  man,  and  I  feel  that  I  ought  not 
to  ask  anybody  to  give  it  up  for  the  sake  of  my  comfort  when  it  is  not 
wrong  in  itself." 

So  thoroughly  conscientious  was  Mr.  Parker  in  the  performance  of 
the  duties  of  his  parish,  that  he  never  seemed  quite  reconciled  to 
having  Sunday  afternoon  for  his  own  use,  and  not  devoting  it  to  some 
special  service  in  their  behalf.  In  vain  they  assured  him  that  they 
neither  required  nor  wished  it— that  one  such  sermon  as  his  was  quite 
sufficient  for  a  week's  digestion,  nnd  that  they  preferred  to  spend  the 
afternoon  hours  with  their  families  or  in  other  ways.  He  tried 
various  plans — occasionally  he  would  hold  meetings  for  free  discussion, 
but,  when  held  in  a  public  place  and  open  to  all,  some  of  the  trouble- 
28 


418  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

some  fleas  of  conventions  were  sure  to  intrude  and  destroy  all  quiet 
and  peace.  The  subject  of  a  Sunday-school  often  occupied  his  thoughts, 
and  he  made  two  different  attempts  to  form  one.  The  first  effort  was  to 
gather  in  poor  and  ignorant  children  from  the  streets,  and  teach  them 
reading  and  the  general  principles  of  morality  and  religion.  But  the 
preponderating  influence  of  the  Catholic  priests  over  our  foreign  popu 
lation,  the  only  class  needing  this  charity,  rendered  all  efforts  to  keep 
the  children  together  fruitless.  He  also  attempted  a  school  for  the 
children  of  the  parish.  The  young  men  and  women  professed  them 
selves  perfectly  ready  to  assist  him  in  his  plans,  but  generally  incre 
dulous  of  its  value  or  necessity.  He  took  the  superintendence  of 
the  school  himself,  always  either  making  some  original  remarks 
or  reading  a  story  to  the  children.  But  a  few  months'  experi 
ment  convinced  him  that  the  teachers  were  right,  and  that  this 
class  of  children  had  sufficient  direct  instruction  from  other  sources. 
A  pleasant  incident  connected  with  this  school  illustrates  his  con 
siderate  thought  for  others  in  the  most  trifling  matters.  One 
stormy  Sunday,  one  of  the  most  constant  attendants  at  church  and 
Sunday-school  was  absent  in  the  morning.  The  storm  was  so  severe 
that  he  announced  there  would  be  no  school  in  the  afternoon ;  but  feel 
ing  that  the  teacher  might  come  out  from  a  sense  of  duty  to  others, 
though  not  for  her  own  pleasure,  he  sent  her  the  following  pleasant  note  : 
— "  The  little  birdies  will  be  all  safely  folded  under  their  mothers'  wings 
this  afternoon,  so  you  need  not  wet  yours  by  coming  out  in  the  storm." 

Another  plan  for  Sunday  afternoon  was  a  series  of  lectures  explana 
tory  of  the  text  of  the  New  Testament.  In  these  he  gave,  in  condensed 
form,  the  results  of  all  the  latest  criticism  of  English  and  German  theo 
logians,  as  well  as  his  own  private  interpretation  of  the  text.  The 
information  thus  given  was  exceedingly  valuable,  but  the  dry  and 
methodical  form  of  a  critical  analysis  did  not  enchain  the  attention  of  a 
large  number  of  hearers.  The  attendance  was  always  small,  but  con 
stant  on  the  part  of  those  most  interested ;  and  he  did  not  complete  the 
course  proposed,  but  continued  the  lectures  only  a  few  years.  He  thus 
reviewed  the  Four  Gospels,  the  Acts,  and  Epistles,  but  we  believe  neither 
Bevelations  nor  the  Old  Testament. 

On  Saturday  afternoons,  for  several  years,  soon  after  his  settlement 
in  the  winter  of  1847-48,  he  invited  the  ladies  of  his  parish  to  meet  at 
his  house  for  conversation  on  themes  of  moral  and  religious  interest. 
He  always  considered  the  culture  of  women  to  be  of  the  highest 
importance,  and  often  said  that  a  body  of  highly  educated  women  could 
do  more  to  elevate  a  community  than  any  other  influence.  Nothing 
can  exceed  the  skill  and  courtesy  with  which  he  conducted  these  meet 
ings.  So  thoroughly  did  he  put  himself  in  relation  with  his  pupils,  for 
such  they  might  well  be  considered,  that  he  often  seemed  to  understand 
the  action  of  their  own  minds  better  than  they  did  themselves.  He 
listened  with  patient  attention  to  the  stammering,  diffident  expression 
of  thought  from  any  earnest  mind,  and,  placing  it  in  the  light  of  his 
own  vast  intelligence,  reflected  it  to  her  and  others  in  grander  propor 
tions  and  clearer  beauty  than  she  had  imagined.  The  subject  proposed 
one  winter  was  the  formation  of  a  perfect  character,  and  all  the  helps  to  it. 
Another  time  it  was  the  gradual  development  of  the  religious  nature  in 


THEODORE   PARKER.  419 

communities  and  individuals.  Another  time  it  was  education  in  its 
broader  sense.  Although  he  allowed  free  play  to  fancy  and  wit  in  the 
illustration  of  all  these  themes,  he  never  suffered  the  conversation  to  be 
aimless  or  profitless  and  without  result ;  but  at  its  close  he  gathered  up 
the  scattered  thoughts  of  the  company,  and  wove  them  into  a  concise 
and  full  expression.  This  wonderful  power  was  still  more  strikingly 
displayed  at  Mr.  Alcott's.  For  two  or  three  hours  the  stream  of  thought 
would  seem  to  flow  at  its  own  wayward  will,  without  direction  or  aim. 
No  other  member  of  the  company,  perhaps,  could  have  reported  more 
than  sparkling  fancies  or  pithy,  orphic  sayings ;  but  Mr.  Parker  would 
surprise  all  by  briefly  reviewing  the  whole  course  of  the  conversation, 
placing  the  remarks  of  each  speaker  in  their  proper  relation  to  those  of  all 
the  rest,  and  giving  them  the  pleasing  consciousness  of  having  said  far 
wiser  and  profounder  things  than  they  had  dreamed  of.  Little  record 
of  these  genial  and  profitable  occasions  can  be  made.  Surrounded  by 
loving  friends  and  disciples,  he  could  here  forget  something  of  the 
stern  battle  in  which  he  was  forced  to  mingle,  and  the  whole  sweetness 
and  warmth  of  his  nature  had  free  play.  We  remember  once,  in  speak 
ing  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  the  stress  which  he  laid  on  the  mental  isolation 
in  which  he  was  forced  to  live.  Although  the  multitude  followed  him, 
not  one  seems  even  to  have  attained  to  a  full  understanding  of  the 
grandeur  and  loftiness  of  his  idea.  We  cannot  estimate,  he  said,  what 
he  would  have  accomplished  surrounded  by  those  who  could  fully 
receive  his  mission  and  work  with  him.  Once  he  said,  "It  is  the 
greatest  of  all  blessings  to  a  man  to  meet  his  superior." 

Speaking  of  sex  in  souls,  a  lady  quoted  Coleridge's  famous  remark, 
that  "  the  man  who  does  not  recognise  sex  in  souls  has  never  known 
what  it  is  truly  to  love  a  mother,  a  wife,  or  even  a  sister."  "Yes;  I 
remember  that  passage  well,"  said  Mr.  Parker.  •*  I  had  a  profound  reve 
rence  for  Mr.  Coleridge,  and  felt  very  badly  to  fall  under  his  anathema,  but 
I  never  could  recognise  any  sex  in  souls."  The  class  were  often  pleased 
to  see  the  strain  of  thought  which  was  called  forth  at  conversation  reap 
pear  in  the  service  on  Sunday.  Nothing  was  ever  buried  in  his  mind ; 
all  was  planted  seed,  and  sure  to  come  up  in  fresh  life  and  beauty. 
^  His  valuable  library,  now  so  wisely  placed  at  the  service  of  the 
citizens  of  Boston,  was  always  freely  open  to  the  use  of  his  parish, 
as  of  all  other  friends ;  and  the  book  was  always  selected  for  the  young 
borrower  with  discriminating  care,  and  with  words  of  criticism,  or 
recommendation,  which  added  wonderful  interest  to  the  perusal.  Yet, 
I  think,  he  lost  much  fewer  books  than  most  who  lend  them  ;  for  they 
were  evidently  so  dear  to  hirn,  yet  so  freely  loaned,  that  the  most  care 
less  did  not  like  to  neglect  the  trust.  It  did  annoy  him  to  have  a  book 
kept  a  long  time,  and  returned  unread ;  but  while  it  was  faithfully  used 
he  was  quite  willing  to  spare  it. 

While  he  thus  cared  for  the  spiritual  and  intellectual  wants  of 
his  parish,  he  did  not  forget  their  claims  in  suffering  and  trial  ;  no, 
not  even  when  the  greatest  public  excitement  demanded  his  strength 
and  energy.  I  chanced  to  be  seriously  though  not  dangerously  ill  at 
the  very  time  when  the  slave-hunters  were  in  Boston,  in  pursuit  of 
William  and  Ellen  Crafts,  whom  he  sheltered  and  protected  in  his  own 
home.  Although  obliged  to  arm  his  household,  and  to  watch  the  door 


420  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

narrowly  against  a  cunning  enemy,  and  taking  part  in  all  the  exciting 
discussions,  and  active  exertions  of  that  period,  he  yet  came  in  person, 
almost  daily,  to  inquire  after  his  sick  parishioner ;  and  soon  as  he 
saw  the  hunted  fugitives  safely  afloat  on  the  free  Atlantic,  he  turned 
his  steps  to  my  sick  room,  where  for  the  first  time  I  was  able  to  see 
him.  What  an  atmosphere  of  health,  and  strength,  and  life  he  brought 
thither  !  So  was  it  with  all  who  needed  him ;  he  never  forgot  indivi 
dual  claims,  any  more  than  public  duties.  His  power  of  consolation 
was  great,  and  never- failing.  It  is  not  time,  nor  occupation,  nor  for- 
getfulness,  which  can  console  us  for  a  real  sorrow.  It  is  only  that 
time  and  a  healthy  re-action  puts  the  grief  in  its  right  place,  enables 
us  to  see  the  great  eternal  truths  which  a  passing  cloud  obscured, 
shows  the  wise  Providence  ordering  all  things  well,  when  all  seemed 
ill  to  us.  Of  this,  which  we  must  often  slowly  and  painfully  learn,  his 
ever-living,  ever-acting  faith,  helped  us  to  consciousness  at  once. 
Tender  and  sympathetic  as  a  mother,  he  was  yet  wise  and  strong,  and 
demanded  life  and  right  action  from  others.  Did  life  seem  valueless, 
because  the  one  who  blessed  it  was  gone,  he  made  us  feel  that  all  life 
is  one ;  that  this  life  and  eternity  are  close  together,  and  that  we  work 
with  those  who  have  passed  beyond  the  veil  as  truly  as  if  they  are 
here.  Trusting  wholly  in  a  perfect  God,  how  could  he  doubt  his  per 
fect  providence?  "No  man  ever  dies  when  it  is  a  misfortune  to  him," 
he  often  said.  His  scheme  of  the  universe  admitted  of  no  accident ; 
an  immanent  God  must  order  all  things  well.  He  usually  prefaced 
his  remarks  at  a  funeral  by  a  statement  of  the  cardinal  doctrines  of 
his  faith,  the  two  great  truths  of  religion  dear  to  every  human  heart, 
and  sufficient  to  sustain  it  in  all  trials — the  loving  fatherhood  of  the 
perfect  God,  and  the  immortality  of  the  human  soul.  Often,  when 
some  peculiar  circumstances  in  the  life  or  death  of  the  departed  one 
seemed  to  render  all  attempt  at  consolation  but  mockery,  his  clear 
and  full  enunciation  of  these  truths,  and  the  beautiful  application  of 
them  to  special  circumstances,  which  he  never  failed  to  make,  seemed 
to  take  the  sting  from  death  and  the  victory  from  the  grave. 

Not  less  impressive  and  beautiful  was  his  performance  of  the  mar 
riage  service ;  always  a  solemn  and  touching  sight  to  him.  His 
appreciation  of  the  mysterious  holiness  and  blessedness  of  the  conjugal 
union  and  of  the  joys  of  the  family  relation,  was  so  great  that  his 
parishioners  sometimes  complained  that  he  never  gave  thanks  for  any 
thing  else  ;  and  his  single  friends  petitioned  that  their  joys,  however 
inferior,  might  sometimes  be  remembered.  Yet,  perhaps,  no  one  has 
ever  done  higher  justice  to  the  maiden  aunt.  Speaking  of  the  struggles 
of  earnest  young  men  to  gain  education  and  a  wider  sphere  of  life, 
"  it  is  the  maiden  aunt  often,"  he  says,  "  who,  when  father  and  mother 
forsake  him,  like  the  Lord,  has  taken  him  up." 

Oh,  how  little  can  we  tell  of  what  he  was  to  us  in  his  fifteen  years' 
ministry;  of  what  a  pillar  was  taken  from  us  when  he  was  gone! 
His  place  standeth  desolate,  and  none  cometh  to  fill  it.  Days  of  peril 
seem  before  us  ;  where  is  the  warning  voice  which  ever  prophesied  the 
storm  afar  off,  but  ever  spoke  words  of  courage  and  hope  when  it  was 
nigh  ?  All  the  changes  and  chances  of  life  are  yet  ours  ;  where  is  the 
steady  arm  on  which  to  lean,  the  heart  to  cheer  us  ? 


THEODORE   PARKER.  421 

It  remains  for  us,  his  disciples,  his  parishioners,  to  take  up  his 
work  and  carry  it  on  ;  not  as  he  could,  with  the  wonderful  genius  and 
power  which  were  his  alone,  but  with  the  same  devotion,  the  same 
independence,  the  same  unselfish  labor  for  others.  When  one  of  his 
parishioners  thanked  him  for  all  he  had  been  to  him  in  years  past,  "  I 
will  be  more  to  you  hereafter,"  he  said,  "  than  ever  before."  Few  months 
were  given  him  to  redeem  that  promise  by  deeds  of  earthly  love  and 
kindness,  but  will  it  not  surely  be  fulfilled  in  the  influence  of  his  life 
and  teachings,  on,  not  one,  but  all  who  sat  at  his  feet?  How  little  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  reaped  of  the  vast  field  of  labour,  which  had 
opened  before  him  !  Let  not  those  who  must  follow  him  with  slow 
and  patient  gleaning,  faint  because  they  are  few  and  feeble.  Fewer  and 
seemingly  more  feeble  were  the  hands  to  which  the  dying  Galilean 
trusted  his  truths,  but  Paul  planted,  and  Apollos  watered,  and  God 
gave  the  increase. 

In  looking  back  over  the  fifteen  years  of  Mr.  Parker's  pastoral  life  in 
Boston,  we  are  astonished  at  its  richness  and  importance,  when  we 
remember  also  his  great  labors  in  other  connections  and  other 
spheres.  Great  as  he  was  in  the  pulpit,  many  a  one  felt  he  was  more 
to  them  in  private.  We  can  see  no  failure,  no  want  in  the  relation.  He 
was  the  friend  when  a  friend  was  needed ;  he  spoke  rebuke,  or  encou 
ragement,  or  consolation,  or  counsel  as  it  was  needed  ;  and,  alas !  he  did 
not  remit  his  labors,  even  when  continued  at  a  risk  of  his  precious 
life  "  How  can  I  refuse  to  go  ?"  he  said,  when  sent  for  to  attend  a 
funeral  while  very  unwell ;  and  he  went,  in  spite  of  all  entreaty.  The 
last  precious  hours  of  strength  were  all  exhausted  on  Sunday ;  when 
too  feeble  even  to  take  his  meals  with  the  family,  he  went  out  to  the 
desk,  and  spoke  with  all  his  whole  fervor,  though  the  husky  voice 
betrayed  the  fearful  cost  at  which  we  bought  the  hour.  And  yet  we 
can  hardly  mourn  or  complain  at  this  excessive  labour,  although  its 
penalty  was  early  death.  What  generous  heart  can  remember  to  be 
always  prudent,  when  the  claims  are  so  pressing,  and  no  other  hand  is 
ready  to  work  ?  He  is  the  faithful  shepherd  who  giveth  his  life  for  the 
sheep. 

Here  are  fragments  of  sermons,  not  hitherto  printed,  which 
were  gathered  up  from  Sunday  to  Sunday.  They  are  not  his 
best,  but  still  characteristic  of  him,  both  by  subject  and  treat 
ment  : — 

OF  THE  EDUCATION  OF  THE  KELIGIOUS  FACULTIES.  Preached  March 
9,  J856. — How  great. is  the  power  of  education  in  the  soul  of  man,  and 
how  strongly  is  he  influenced  by  the  circumstances  in  which  he  is 
placed  !  The  cradle  is  the  place  whereon  we  stand  to  move  the  world, 
and  education  is  the  Archimedes  for  that  universal  lift.  Take  a  single 
example.  Look  at  the  history  of  the  Warren  Street  Chapel  in  this 
town,  for  the  last  five-and-twenty  years.  A  quarter  of  a  century  ago, 
perhaps  less,  some  wise  men  made  a  sacrifice,  and  by  sweet  self-denial 
they  built  up  a  little  conservatory,  wherein  they  might  take  and  shelter 
the  precious  plants  which  they  found  in  the  mire  of  the  streets.  How 
many  hundreds,  how  many  thousands,  are  now  honorable,  noble, 
heavenly-minded  men  and  women,  simply  because  they  were  transferred 


422  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

from  the  cold,  bleak  atmosphere  of  the  street,  where  temptation  lay  in 
wait  to  destroy  them,  and  were  set  in  this  green-house  of  souls,  and 
blossomed  into  fragrant  flowers  ! 

OF  THE  DANGERS  AND  DUTIES  OF  YOUNG  WOMEN.  Preached  Jan.  18, 
]  857. — Oh,  young  woman,  cultivate  your  mind,  shun  frivolous  reading,' 
poor,  weak,  silly  books,  sentimental  books.  Read  for  knowledge  some 
hard  book  which  demands  attention,  memory,  thought;  master  one  good 
book,  no  matter  what — geography,  arithmetic,  astronomy,  history,  what 
you  will ;  but  study  it,  and  know  it  well,  understand  one  thing  cer 
tainly.  Read,  also,  for  beauty,  what  feeds  the  imagination,  fills  it  with 
handsome  shapes,  and  wakens  noble  thoughts.  There  are  poets,  our 
own  or  those  abroad,  who  can  do  this  ;  some  of  the  present  generation, 
some  long  passed  by.  Read,  also,  for  the  reason— something  that 
gives  you  general  laws,  universal  views.  Read  for  inspiration ;  you 
may  be  poor,  and  have  little  time,  or  rich,  and  have  much,  still,  there 
is  one  humanity  and  one  womanhood  in  the  idle  and  the  active,  in 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  and  the  same  noble  book  will  speak  to  each 
and  to  all ;  and  so  is  America  favoured  and  blessed  that  the  poorest, 
the  activest,  can  find  the  book  and  the  time  also  to  read  it,  if  she 
will. 

Next,  reverence  your  own  moral  instincts ;  ask  your  conscience,  Is 
it  right?  as  well  as  your  heart,  Is  it  kind?  Man  "is  more  likely  to  go 
astray  through  self-love,  you  through  the  opposite  path.  Keep  your 
individuality  sacred;  surrender  that  not  to  priest,  nor  husband,  nor 
father,  nor  mother,  nor  lover,  nor  child.  Look  to  your  own  moral 
sense  for  approbation,  not  to  man  nor  to  woman  ;  but, — 

"  As  that  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed, 
Of  so  much  praise  in  heaven  expect  your  meed." 

Be  faithful  to  yourself!  Are  you  single?  "  Come  into  port  greatly, 
or  sail  the  seas  alone  with  God."  Are  you  wedded  ?  it  will  be  a  part 
of  woman's  domestic  function  to  "  soothe,  and  heal,  and  bless  " — aye, 
she  will  often  be  called  upon  to  soothe  where  she  cannot  heal,  and 
where  she  is  not  suffered  to  bless ;  and  the  self-denial  for  the  sake  of 
soothing  will  heal  others  and  bless  you,  when  neither  you  nor  they 
asked  for  such  result. 

Cultivate  the  religious  faculty;  develope  the  instinctive  religious 
feelings;  have  reverence  for  God,  not  the  God  of  Calvinism — I  cannot 
ask  any  one  to  reverence  that — but  the  dear  God  who  made  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,  who  speaks  in  your  heart,  uttering  parable,  prophecy, 
and  beatitude.  Develope  a  great  piety  in  yourself,  and  let  this  be  the 
central  fire  to  warm,  still  further,  your  human  affection,  spreading  it 
from  mother,  father,  husband,  child,  clear  round  to  neighbourhood, 
kinsfolk,  all  the  world.  Let  it  light  your  conscience,  and  give  you  a 
general  moral  rule  whereby  to  find  your  path.  Let  it  beautify  your 
intellect,  and  stimulate  your  understanding,  imagination,  reason.  Let 
it  correct  that  poor  temptation  to  frivolity,  peevishness,  vanity,  dis 
content. 

Remember  that  all  the  little  every-day  duties  of  woman's  life  are  just 
as  much  means  to  help  you  as  the  rougher  discipline  of  man  is  to  aid 
him  in  his  course.  The  little  cares,  sorrows,  and  joys,  the  vexations  of 


THEODORE   PARKER.  423 

the  household  lot,  the  perplexities  of  those  careful  and  troubled  about 
many  things,  these  are  the  elements  to  help  form  the  noble  woman ; 
only  she  must  have  a  noble  ideal,  a  noble  will.  So  the  artist  takes  the 
little  chips  of  many- coloured  stone  and  constructs  his  grand  mosaic  of 
creative  skill,  a  queen,  a  Madonna,  an  angel,  and  the  dead  stone 
becomes  a  living  oracle,  a  moral  prophecy  of  nobleness  to  come. 
Grandeur  of  character  is  not  easy  to  young  women  or  men ;  God  be 
thanked,  it  is  possible  to  both !  and  one  noble  woman,  she  is  parent 
of  many  more ;  in  her  spiritual  image  and  likeness  she  shall  create 
women  and  men  to  the  end  of  time ;  aye,  people  eternity  with  noble 
souls,  beautiful  in  their  life,  and  welcome  unto  God ! 

OF  GRATITUDE  AND  INGRATITUDE.  Preached  March  8,  1857. — 
There  is  to  be  a  future  of  the  benevolent  emotions,  when  what  is 
prophecy  to-day,  instinct  in  your  heart  and  mine,  shall  become  fact  and 
institutions  through  all  the  land.  Now,  in  the  walled  garden  a  single 
handful  of  snowdrops  comes  out  of  the  ground  and  looks  up  and 
welcomes  the  sweet  sunshine  of  March.  Everywhere  else  the  ground 
is  dry  and  frozen,  and  the  trees  are  leafless  and  bare.  These  are  a 
prophecy  as  well  as  a  beauty,  and  ere  long  the  snow  has  run  off  from 
all  the  hills,  the  frost  has  come  out  of  the  ground,  the  trees  shake 
down  their  odorous  flowers,  the  spring  is  everywhere,  summer  is 
coming,  and  the  harvest  is  not  far  away. 

OF  THE  ULTIMATE  PURPOSE  OF  HUMAN  LIFE  FOB  THE  INDIVIDUAL 
AND  THE  KACE.  Preached  Sept.  13,  1857. — Now,  the  power  of  moral 
good  in  the  world  is  destined  to  overcome  the  power  of  evil.  I 
mean,  the  constant  tendency  towards  the  right,  the  just,  and  the 
true  on  the  part  of  man,  will  overcome  all  the  general  evil  attendant 
on  the  experience  of  human  life.  God  has  so  created  the  nature 
of  men  that  instinctively  they  long  for  the  triumph  of  good,  pray 
for  it,  and  presently  will,  with  reflection,  devise  means,  and  put 
their  shoulders  to  the  wheel,  and  so  work  in  conformity  with  their 
internal  desire,  and  bring  that  result  to  pass.  This  triumph  of  good 
is  just  as  certain  as  the  infinite  perfection  of  God's  character.  Sure  of 
Him,  you  are  sure  that  everywhere  good  will  triumph  over  evil,  truth 
over  falsehood,  justice  over  wrong,  love  over  hate,  and  holiness  over  all 
uncleanness,  for  God's  nature  is  endorsed  as  security,  and  lodged  as 
collateral,  for  the  fulfilment  of  every  holy  desire  that  enters  into  the 
heart  of  man. 

This  triumph  of  good  is  for  the  individual,  and  for  each  individual. 
It  comes  partly  here,  for  the  individual's  course  begins  here ;  it  comes 
partly  hereafter,  for  that  course  ends  unseen  above.  There  is  no  man 
to  whom  existence  on  the  whole  will  not  be  ultimately  a  blessing,  a 
triumph  of  those  faculties  which  lead  to  good,  over  such  as  contingently 
tend  to  evil.  There  $is  no  earthly  life  that  can  be  altogether  a  failure, 
wholly  a  misfortune.*  You  shall  take  the  worst  woman  in  Boston,  foul 
and  loathsome  with  long-continued  wickedness,  yet,  before  her  there  is 
a  future  development  in  all  the  grand  virtues  of  humanity.  You  and  I 
in  our  weakness  cannot  but  loathe  her ;  we  treat  her  as  the  world's 
vermin.  Not  so  the  infinite  God,  who  will  never  shirk  His  responsi 
bility.  In  this  poor  wretch,  likewise,  lies  the  power  of  good,  for  she, 


424  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

too,  is  human;  and  though  they  sleep,  they  are  not  dead,  and  the 
Father  and  Mother  of  the  universe  has  so  arranged  the  world  of 
here  and  hereafter,  that  some  event  or  some  person  shall  come  to  her 
as  a  saviour,  take  her  by  the  hand,  and  say  to  her,  "  I  say  unto  thee, 
arise;  take  up  thy  bed  and  walk!"  and  the  humanity  of  the  wretch 
shall  cast  off  its  filthy  garments,  and  stand  on  its  feet  clean  and  erect. 
I  feel  sure  that  her  life  here,  howsoever  mean  and  abominable  it  may 
be,  is  no  complete  failure ;  it  is  a  step  towards  triumph,  a  step  which 
she  might  not  have  done  without. 

Look  at  this  fact :  in  the  world  of  matter  no  atom  is  lost,  in  all  the  busy 
changes  thereof,  of  growth  and  dissolution.  No  straw,  no  particle  of 
dust  ever  flies  off  from  the  world's  swift  wheels.  In  all  that  world  of 
starry  motion  yonder,  there  is  not  a  movement  in  vain  ;  all  is  planned 
before-hand,  and  made  subject  to  the  scheme  of  the  universe,  in  the 
vast  designs  of  God,  which  hover  over  it,  and  penetrate  it  through. 
This  being  so  — so  much  care  taken  of  man's  material  house — do  you 
believe  that  God,  who  made  it  for  man's  abode,  will  take  less  care  of 
you  and  me,  will  save  the  cradle  and  spill  the  baby  out  ?  When  that 
material  universe  is  so  wisely  planned,  do  you  think  He  will  allow  a 
whole  human  life  to  be  a  failure,  even  that  of  the  wickedest  of  wicked 
women  ? 

There  are  men  whose  early  lives  have  been  spent  in  the  meanest, 
humblest,  and  most  loathsome  toil,  who  yet  rise  to  great  eminence  of 
wealth  and  station,  and,  though  they  crept  into  social  life  through  the 
lowest  hole,  yet  go  proudly  out  through  its  golden  gate.  So,  I  doubt 
not  that  from  the  gaol,  the  brothel,  the  gallows — from  the  murderer's  den, 
from  the  kidnapper's  office,  from  the  hypocrite's  pulpit,  by  many  a  long 
and  winding  slope,  the  soul  shall  go  up  into  God's  highest  heaven ;  for 
though  human  charity  fail,  there  is  One  whose  love  knows  no  beginning 
and  no  end.  Oh,  infinite  Father  and  Mother,  it  is  Thou ! 

Suffering  is  a  merciful  angel  here,  which  scourges  us  to  virtue.  You 
and  I  are  thankful  for  many  a  stripe  in  kindness  laid  on  us.  Our 
Father  provides  the  best  teachers,  and  is  sure  to  give  us  the  best  edu 
cation.  In  what  men  call  hell,  Swedenborg  tells  us,  the  murderer 
writhes  in  his  dream  of  murder,  and  the  covetous  in  his  dream  of  cove- 
tousness.  Be  sure  that  the  suffering  which  is  before  us  is  only  the 
sinner's  porch  into  heaven — a  means  to  an  end. 

This  triumph  is  for  the  race,  and  of  course  a  great  part  of  it  must 
take  place  here.  The  life  of  individuals  is  short,  that  of  humanity 
knows  no  end.  There  are  fluctuations  of  people  and  nations — ^iEgypt, 
Judsea,  Chaldsea,  Syria,  were  and  are  not ;  but  though  the  populous 
waves  rise  and  fall,  the  ocean  of  humanity  continues  steadfast,  and  on 
that  great  deep  the  spirit  of  God  moves  continually,  bringing  light  out 
of  darkness,  changing  chaos  into  creation.  As  you  look  on  the  sum  of 
human  history,  and  on  the  present  condition  of  men,  and  see  the 
amount  of  wickedness  in  the  world,  you  cannot  fajl  to  ask  if  mankind 
could  not  have  been  created  on  a  little  higher  plane,  with  less  animal 
grossness  and  ferocity,  and  so  human  history  be  not  so  writ  in  blood. 
But  presently  you  remember  it  is  the  work  of  the  infinite  Creator  and 
Providence,  who  from  His  very  nature  could  only  do  the  best  of  possible 
things,  and  you  recall  the  thought,  and  you  content  yourself  with  human 


THEODORE   PARKER.  425 

nature  as  He  gave  it,  looking  with  joy  at  the  signs  of  past  growth  and 
future  prosperity,  justice,  and  humanity,  and  you  toil  for  the  progress 
of  mankind,  with  earnest  efforts  which  you  know  shall  not  fail.  This 
triumph  of  the  individual  and  the  race  is  part  of  the  divine  plan  and 
divine  providence  of  God,  which  underlies  all  human  affairs,  which 
directs  Columbus,  Franklin,  Moses,  Jesus,  Paul,  you  and  me,  to  ends 
we  know  not  of.  But  it  will  be  brought  about  also  partly  by  human 
consciousness,  looking  before  and  after,  and  working  for  a  definite  pur 
pose  of  good.  It  is  the  destination  of  mankind  on  earth  to  develope  the 
higher  powers,  and  in  such  sort  that  the  moral  and  religious  faculties 
shall  control  and  guide  all  the  rest ;  then  shall  the  power  of  evil  prove 
only  an  instrument  of  good.  You  and  I,  in  our  short  life,  are  here  to 
achieve  this  triumph,  and  mankind  collectively  in  its  immense  dura 
tion  ;  you  and  I  with  conscious  individualism.  This  is  our  work. 

My  life  is  valuable  to  me  just  as  I  use  my  talents  and  opportunities 
for  the  development  of  my  highest  faculties,  and  no  more.  Simply  to 
have  large  talents  shall  avail  me  nothing;  to  have  small  shall  be  no 
hindrance.  As  growth  in  the  highest  human  qualities  is  the  purpose 
of  life,  and  all  lines  providentially  converge  to  this  central  point,  so  the 
question  to  be  asked  x>f  each  man's  life  is,  "  How  faithfully  have  you 
used  your  talents  and  opportunities  ?"  not  "  How  great  was  your  gift?  " 
Money  is  the  pecuniary  end  of  business,  office  of  ambition,  knowledge 
and  power  the  aim  of  study,  and  the  delight  of  self  or  the  tickling  of 
others'  eyes  is  the  aim  of  many  a  beautiful  dress  or  other  ornament ;  but 
while  these  are  ends  to  individuals,  as  traders,  office-seekers,  scholars, 
and  fops,  to  them  as  men  and  women  they  are  only  means  and  helps  to 
manhood  and  womanhood — no  more.  If  she  will,  the  young  woman's 
showy  dress  may  be  worth  as  much  to  her  as  John  Kogers'  garment  of 
faggots  was  to  him ;  if  she  will  not,  it  is  worth  to  her  less  than  the 
leafy  girdle  of  a  savage  woman  at  Nootka  Sound. 

I  deny  not  the  local,  temporary  value  of  ornament,  of  knowledge, 
power,  and  fame,  but,  after  all,  their  chief  value  is  moral.  That  is  not 
the  best  business  which  gives  the  most  money,  nor  the  best  policy 
which  affords  the  highest  office,  nor  the  best  school  which  teaches  you 
the  most  knowledge  ;  but  that  which  affords  the  highest  development 
for  your  highest  faculty  is  the  best  business,  policy,  or  school.  He  is 
the  most  fortunate  who  hives  up  the  most  character  of  the  noblest  kind. 
If  he  does  it  in  the  sunshine  of  honor  or  riches,  well ;  if  in  the  dark, 
nocturnal  storm  of  disgrace  and  ruin,  still  well ;  it  is  the  hive  of  sweet 
character  that  is  the  end,  not  the  toil  by  day  or  night.  By  this  test  we 
must  try  fortune  and  misfortune,  forms  of  government  and  religion, 
and  ask  what  men  and  women  they  bring  forth  and  rear  up.  That  is 
not  the  best  farm  which  gives  us  the  best  cotton  and  sugar,  not  the  best 
manufactory  which  best  weaves  the  one  into  muslin,  or  changes  the 
other  best  and  cheapest  into  candy ;  but  that  is  the  best  farm  or  manu 
factory  that  raises  us  the  noblest  men  and  women.  In  the  vast  variety 
of  human  occupations,  from  that  of  the  naked  hunter  of  New  Holland 
to  the  astronomer  of  Cambridge,  in  the  vast  variety  of  human  fortunes, 
God  has  provided  the  best  circumstances  He  knew  how  to  provide  for 
the  training  up  of  His  children.  If  we  use  them  ill,  there  comes  smart, 
and  harm,  and  loss,  and  inward  woe,  which  scourge  the  nation  or  the 


426  LIFE    AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

man.  If  we  use  them  well,  then  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor 
the  heart  of  man  conceived  the  magnificent  welfare  and  the  grand  pro 
gress  which  there  is  before  the  individual,  the  nation,  the  race  ;  and  that 
infinite  Father  and  Mother  who  broods  over  the  world,  who  breathed 
it  from  his  love,  and  warms  it  with  that  same  breath,  has  so  tempered 
human  nature  and  human  circumstances,  that  at  last  this  result  shall 
be  brought  about  for  the  whole  of  mankind,  for  each  nation,  for  each 
individual,  howsoever  wicked.  Smarting  in  that  wickedness,  there  is 
heaven  over  us,  and  God  leading  us ! 

OF  THE  PRACTICAL  CONSEQUENCE  OF  THE  IDEA  OF  GOD  AS  IN 
FINITE  PERFECTION.  Preached  June  13,  1858. — A  thousand  years 
ago,  your  and  my  Saxon  fathers,  living  in  mean  hovels,  for  their 
favorite  sport  had  mimic  battles,  wherein  with  quarter-staves,  or 
spears,  or  swords,  men  laid  at  each  other  in  their  savage  joy,  and 
were  often  hurt  and  sometimes  slain.  Looking  on  that  howling 
wilderness  of  amusement,  who  could  have  foreseen  the  time  when, 
in  another  land,  peopled  by  other  Saxons,  in  Boston,  two  thousand 
Christian  men  and  women  should  come  together  in  a  theatre,  paying 
large  prices,  to  see  a  great  scene  of  ambitious  human  life,  done 
into  magnificent  language  by  an  old  English  Saxon  poet,  the  chiefest  of 
his  tribe,  and  that  grand  poetry  enacted  into  a  great  drama  by  a  New 
England  Saxon  woman,*  who  transfigured  his  thought  to  life,  teaching 
how  the  justice  of  God  comes  and  torments  the  murderer,  and  her  who 
excited  the  murder,  walking  in  such  ghastly  sleep  ?  Who,  a  thousand 
years  ago,  in  the  rough  sports  of  our  Saxon  fathers,  could  have  imagined 
a  Boston  audience,  thrilled  with  aesthetic  and  religious  delight  at  seeing 
"  Macbeth  "  fitly  enacted  by  fitting  men  and  women  ? 

OF  THE  POWER  OF  HUMAN  WILL  OVER  OR  UNDER  ADVERSE  CIR 
CUMSTANCES.  Preached  October  8,  1854. — Here  is  a  woman  who  sits 
spell-bound  in  her  chair.  Her  feet  are  fettered  by  disease,  which 
long  ago  froze  every  joint  and  limb  :  her  arms  are  bound  by  the 
malady,  and  embrace  and  caress  are  figures  of  speech,  no  facts,  to  her. 
A  foreign  hand  must  feed  her  mouth,  or  wipe  a  tear  away.  But  how 
large  a  soul  is  perched  upon  that  spray,  and  in  that  sickly  nest  finds 
room  to  rear  a  family  of  virtues  large  enough  to  people  a  whole 
kingdom  with  innocence,  faith,  and  wisdom,  and  love  !f 

OF  THE  IMMEDIATE  AND  ULTIMATE  CONSEQUENCES,  TO  THE  INDI 
VIDUAL  AND  TO  MANKIND,  OF  THE  PERFORMANCE  OF  DUTY  AND  THE  CLAIM 
OF  RIGHT.  Preached  December  23,  1855.  —  Here  is  a  woman  in 
Massachusetts  who  has  travelled  all  over  the  North,  labouring  for 
woman's  cause.  She  bore  the  burden  in  the  heat  of  the  day ;  she  was 
an  outcast  from  society ;  other  women  hated,  and  men  insulted  her, 
when  defended  only  by  her  own  nobleness  and  virtue.  Every  vulgar 
editor  threw  a  stone  at  her,  picked  out  of  the  mud.  Many  a  minister 
laid  sore  stripes  on  her  with  the  epistolary  whip  of  Hebrew  Paul.  The 
noble  woman  bore  it  with  no  complaint,  only  now  and  then  in  private 

*  This  was  Miss  Cushman. 

f  This  is  another  picture  drawn  from  the  life,  and  recognizable  by  all  who  need  to 
know  it. 


THEODORE   PARKEB.  427 

the  great  heart  of  Abby  Kelly  filled  her  eyes  with  tears  ;  but  she  never 
allowed  tears  to  blind  her  eyes,  nor  quench  the  light  shedding  its 
radiance  along  a  steep  and  barricaded  path.  But  when  the  cause  of 
woman  had  won  something  of  respectability,  and  a  great  convention  of 
women  and  their  friends  was  summoned  in  the  heart  of  this  common 
wealth,  they  who  controlled  the  matter  thought  it  would  not  do  for  their 
stoutest  champion  to  sit  on  the  platform ;  she  must  sit  beneath  the 
platform,  lest  it  hurt  the  cause  and  peril  the  rights  of  woman,  to  have 
woman's  champion  sit  in  woman's  honored  place. 

His  method,  already  mentioned,  of  blocking  out  his  time  was 
habitual.  Generally  whatever  was  projected  was  duly  performed 
within  the  assigned  limits.  But  soon  after  his  coming  to  Boston, 
the  calls  upon  him  for  public  and  social  service  of  every  descrip 
tion  accumulated  in  a  way  that  seriously  disturbed  all  his 
favorite  plans  of  study  and  composition. 


FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

Sept.  1,  1853. — My  vacation  is  now  at  an  end.  I  had  some  knots  I 
wanted  to  untie,  so  I  went  to  Nahant  to  get  the  sea  to  help  me,  not 
without  profit,  I  hope. 

Notice  the  profusion  of  life  in  the  sea.  Homer  calls  it  barren  and 
boundless,  ar^ys-rota  xctl  a-rm^a.  But  howfull  it  is  of  life  !  It  is  lined 
with  green  and  purple  plants,  which  cover  snails,  muscles,  barnacles, 
and  certain  echini,  and  insects  innumerable ;  then  there  are  the  fish  of 
countless  number,  of  immense  variety.  This  strikes  me  more  and 
more,  the  more  I  get  acquainted  with  the  sea. 

Notice  the  little  pools  of  water  in  the  rocks,  the  sides  and  bottom 
lined  with  little  shell-fish,  who  live  secure  in  the  clear  tranquillity,  and 
know  nothing  of  the  tide  which  scours  the  coasts.  But  when  the 
ocean  is  chafed  by  the  storms,  and  licks  out  its  tongue  against  the 
rocks,  how  all  these  vanish,  and  the  insects  fail ! 

Sept.  4,  1853,  Sunday. — How  delightful  it  is  to  begin  preaching 
again  !  It  was  so  pleasant  to  see  the  dear  old  familiar  faces,  and  to 
read  again  to  those  persons  the  hymns  and  psalms  which  I  have  read 
them  so  often,  to  pray  with  them  also,  and  feel  that  many  a  soul  prayed 
with  me.  1  preached  of  the  nobleness  of  man's  nature. 

Sept.  6. — This  day  my  new  book  appeared,  "  Sermons  of  Theism, 
Atheism,  and  the  Popular  Theology  *  It  seems  to  me  so  poor  and 
dull  now  I  look  it  over,  to  find  the  printer's  mistakes,  that  I  hate  to 
touch  it.  I  was  too  ill  to  work  well  when  it  went  through  the  press, 
hence,  doubtless,  many  an  error.  Well,  I  meant  well,  if  I  have  not 
done  so.  I  wish  there  was  no  fighting  to  be  done,  but,  alas  !  non  veni 
pacem  mittere  sed  gladium  must  be  said  by  every  man  who  would  make 
the  world  better. 


428  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

In  a  few  weeks  is  the  following,  without  a  date : — 

I  have  been  very  dull  all  this  week  past,  all  this,  and  the  last  month. 
The  journey  did  me  little  good,  the  old  difficulty  in  my  head  (or 
stomach)  troubles  me  ;  I  know  not  why,  I  feel  ashamed  to  be  ill,  as  if 
I  had  wrecked  an  estate.  As  I  lie  awake  in  the  night,  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
done  nothing.  My  idea  shames  me.  I  must  be  more  and  so  do  more. 
I  have  never  had  either  a  friend  who  continually  stirred  me  to  nobler 
activity  by  words,  nor  a  rival  who  did  it  by  his  own  action.  I  wish  I 
had  both. 

Here  are  some  rough  notes  upon  spiritualism,  meant  for  use 
in  sermons  : — 

SPIRITUALISM. — In  1856,  it  seems  more  likely  that  spiritualism  would 
would  become  the  religion  of  America  than  in  156  that  Christianity 
would  be  the  religion  of  the  Roman  Empire,  or  in  756  that  Moham 
medanism  would  be  that  of  the  Arabian  populations. 

1.  It  has  more  evidence  for  its  wonders   than  any  historic  form  of 
religion,  hitherto. 

2.  It  is  thoroughly  democratic,  with  no  hierarchy ;  but  inspiration  is 
open  to  all. 

3.  It  is  no  fixed,  fact,  has  no  punctum  stans,  but  is  a  punctum  fluens; 
not  a  finality,  but  opens  a  great  vista  for  the  future.     Its  present 
condition  is  no  finality. 

4.  It  admits  all  the  truths  of  religion  and  morality  in  all  the  world- 
sects. 

SPIRITS. — 1.  Man's  spirit  more  interesting  than  his  body  to  him. 
Thence,  stories  of  miracles  are  more  interesting  than  science,  for  they 
presume  an  effect  of  mind  over  matter  by  direct  action ;  and  ghost- 
stories  are  more  interesting  than  history. 

2.  Scholars  in  America  neglect  spiritual  and  turn  to  material  nature. 
Metaphysics  have  gone  to  physics,  ethics  to  political  economy,  theology 
to  politics. 

3.  Ministers  keep  up  the  old  metaphysics  and  superstitions  of  spirit, 
but  it  is  restricted  in  Protestant  countries  to  the  old  Bible  times,  their 
ghosts,  miracles,  inspiration,  speaking  with  tongues,  &c.,  but  not  to 
our  new  ones. 

4.  Life  is  intensely  practical — all  work,  little  account  of  imagination 
and  fancy,  little  sport ;  money-making  and  dress — no  games,  no  Volks- 
lieder  (people's  songs),  &c.     So, 

5.  The  mass  of  the  people  take  up  a  popular  spiritual  metaphysics; 
it  feeds  spiritually,  and  pacifies  the  hunger  for  the  marvellous. 

But  the  dangers  are, — 

1.  Those  which  befall   the    sincere  believers;    moral  and  bodily 
derangement 

2.  Of  insincerity  itself. 

3.  Of  a  reaction  from  all  this ;  libertinism,  &c. 
And  the  good  is, — 

1.  Appeals  to  the  immaterial  against  the  material. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  429 

2.  Destroys  the  prestige  of  old  things. 

3.  Removes  doubts  of  spiritual  life  in  some  men. 

May  18,  1855. — Lectured  on  slavery,  at  Wilmington,  Del.,  the  first 
time  in  a  slave  state.  My  theme  was,  "  The  Relation  of  Slavery  to  the 
Democratic  Institutions  of  America."  Received  with  much  applause, 
and  a  vote  of  thanks  at  the  close. 

May  19. — Preached  a  sermon  at  the  opening  of  the  Meeting  House  t 
of  Progressive  Friends,  Longwood,  Chester  County,  Pennsylvania, 
"  Relation  between  the  Ecclesiastical  Institutions  and  the  Religious 
Consciousness  of  the  American  People."  It  is  fourteen  years,  to-day, 
since  I  preached  at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Shackford,  at  South  Boston. 
Since  that  I  have  taken  no  part  in  church  festivals,  having  no  invi 
tation. 

20. — Preached  again,  "  Of  the  Blessedness  of  True  Piety." 

And  he  gave  three  lectures  on  the  three  succeeding  days. 

In  1858  he  again  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Progressive 
Friends,  and  delivered  four  sermons  :  "  The  Biblical  Conception 
of  God  ;  "  "  The  Ecclesiastical  Conception  of  God  ;"  "The  Phi 
losophical  Idea  of  God ; "  "  The  Soul's  Normal  Delight  in  the 
Infinite  God."  These  are  strong  and  lofty  discourses  ;  they  con 
tain  his  most  unsparing  criticism  of  the  popular  ideas  of  God, 
expressed  occasionally  in  phrases  that  do  not  shrink  from  the 
plain  odiousness  of  ecclesiastical  doctrines,  as  he  saw  them  all 
bare  and  mischievous.  For  his  object  was  not  to  show  how 
human  nature  often  proves  too  much  for  its  beliefs,  clothes  them 
in  its  sentiments,  and  mitigates  their  influence  with  instinctive 
tenderness,  but  to  show,  for  human  nature's  sake,  the  more  im 
portant  fact,  how  the  beliefs  devastate  it  and  continually  make 
war  upon  its  excellence.  Sturdy  language  and  an  unwincing 
pen  are  needed  for  that  operation.  Any  rhetorician  can  perform 
the  other  useless  task. 

In  no  sermons  can  the  essentially  constructive  nature  of  Mr. 
Parker's  work  be  more  distinctly  seen.  The  criticisms  of  doctrine 
are  burly  workmen  clearing  the  field  of  its  rubbish,  that  Piety 
may  serenely  raise  her  dwelling  there.  All  the  work  tends  to 
growth  ;  it  is  undertaken  in  the  dearest  interests  of  the  soul, 
and  with  a  motive  which  the  soul's  highest  faculties  alone  can 
worthily  represent,  to  make  the  law  of  the  spirit  supreme  in  man 
and  in  society,  to  compel  the  imperfect  conception  to  yield  to  the 
perfecting  idea,  that  man  may  be  saved  from  the  license  of  igno 
rance  by  the  freedom  of  purity  and  health.  Did  he  undermine 
venerable  doctrines  and  sentiments  ?  Of  course  he  did  ;  and  as 


430  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

they  sink  into  a  little  heap,  which  just  marks  the  circuit  of  their 
former  proudness,  the  glad  soul  steps  over  it  into  the  great  labors 
and  glories  of  a  world.  It  is  plain  that  God  has  this  work  done 
for  His  children  as  often  as  it  is  needed,  and  when  the  time  comes 
He  does  not  send  a  boy  upon  a  man's  errand. 

The  four  sermons  glow  with  positive  ideas  and  feelings — with 
definite  religious  faith.  That  makes  them  so  tenacious  and  in 
tolerant.  If  he  did  not  see  the  beauty  of  holiness  so  clearly,  he 
could  not  be  so  indignant  with  the  sin  of  ugliness  in  low  concep 
tions  of  the  infinite  God.  The  fault  witli  Mr.  Parker  always 
was  that  he  saw  too  much,  and  undertook  to  tell  it.  Only  two 
other  ways  are  possible — to  see  nothing,  or  to  say  nothing :  and 
neither  of  these  was  his  misfortune. 

FROM    THE   JOURNAL. 

March  23,  1856. — I  find  I  need  more  time  for  my  own  daily  religious 
meditation,  for  contemplative  internal  life.  Once  I  had  much,  now 
little.  The  intense  busyness  of.  my  late  years  is  not  favorable  to 
certain  religious  joys  I  once  had  time  for,  and  still  have  inclination  to 
wards  and  longing  after.  So  a  little  more  time  shall  be  daily  given 
thereunto. 

Aug.  16.  Saturday  Night. — It  is  now  the  third  week  of  my  annual 
vacation.  I  have  been  rejoicing  in  quiet,  in  idleness,  and  doing  just 
as  I.  have  a  mind  to.  I  have  read  a  good  deal  in  Vogt's  works,  also  in 
works  of  art,  and  translated  divers  little  gems,  which  are  in  the  leaves 
before  this. 

But  when  Saturday  night  comes,  I  feel  a  little  uneasiness  ;  solemn 
emotions  of  awe,  and  reverence,  and  delight,  spring  to  consciousness. 
I  don't  feel  quiet,  but  wish  I  was  to  preach  to-morrow;  and  on 
Sunday  night  I  feel  a  little  dissatisfied  that  1  have  not  preached. 

Sept.  9  — To-day,  I  received  from  Messrs.  Voigt  and  Giinther,  book 
sellers,  of  Leipsic,  B.  II.,  of  Parker's  Sammtliche  Werke,  which  makes 
four  in  all,  accompanied  with  a  collection  of  notices  of  me  and  mine, 
which  are  mostly  quite  friendly — more  so,  indeed,  than  the  books 
entirely  deserve.  One,  quite  pleasing,  was  a  hearty  appreciation  of  the 
earnest  religiousness  of  the  writer.  Faults  I  must  have  committed, 
and  that  in  no  small  number,  but  I  am  glad  to  find  that  the  motive 
is  set  down  as  human  and  religious. 

His  activity  was  very  great  just  after  he  began  to  preach  in 
the  Music  Hall.  To  the  year  1852  belong  the  "Ten  Sermons 
of  Religion,"  the  "Discourse  on  Daniel  Webster/'  a  sermon  on 
leaving  the  Melodeon,  and  one,  "The  Function  of  a  Minister," 
on  entering  the  Music  Hall.  He  also  preached  consecutively  the 


THEODORE   PARKER.  431 

six  sermons,  perhaps  his  most  elaborate  ones,  upon  atheism,  the 
popular  theology,  and  theism.  These,  with  four  more,  make 
the  volume  entitled  "  Sermons  of  Theism : "  to  this  he  prefixed  an 
historical  introduction,  which  is  a  good  popular  exposition  of  the 
development  of  Christian  Churches  arid  nations,  and  of  the  reli 
gious  needs  of  mankind.  Nothing  can  be  better  than  all  the 
statements  in  these  sermons,  of  the  different  kinds  of  atheism, 
the  errors  of  the  popular  theology,  and  its  past  services,  of  pro 
vidence,  of  evil,  of  the  economy  of  pain.  They  are  simple  and 
racy,  marred  by  no  difficult  terms,  full  of  proverbial  sentences. 

Everything  is  addressed  with  warmth  and  sincerity  to  the 
simplest  comprehension.  Broad  facts  are  displayed  without 
subtlety  ;  all  the  essential  points  and  movements  of  religious 
history  are  given  without  any  compromises  to  rhetoric  or  popular 
predilections.  There  never  was  a  more  thorough,  yet  more 
religious,  attempt  to  emancipate  the  common  mind  from  the  vices 
of  traditional  belief.  No  wonder  such  unadorned  consciousness 
of  theological  absurdities  became  odious  to  the  strong  believers  of 
every  creed,  who  accused  him  of  loose  statements  and  immoral 
misrepresentation  ;  of  a  vague  spite  against  doctrines  which  he 
feared  to  examine,  but  which  in  reality  he  saw  uncolored  and 
unclad.  A  different  estimate  must  some  day  be  made  of  these  great 
popular  utterances  of  a  pious  and  sensible  spirit.  The  sermons 
silently  do  their  work  among  the  people,  flowing  into  the  minds 
that  are  the  most  accessible  by  birth  or  culture  to  their  ap 
proaches,  and  thence  making  their  fertilizing  way.  Bigots  will 
resist  in  vain  an  influence  which  they  style  insidious,  but  which 
shares  the  silence  and  the  breadth  of  every  elementary  force. 
The  Music  Hall  is  empty !  Men  will  look  in  vain  for  his  parish  ; 
it  waits  in  Europe  and  America  upon  his  printed  speech,  which 
addresses,  with  a  rare  comprehension  of  the  general  intelligence, 
and  in  a  style  born  to  emancipate  the  longing  of  all  men  for  simple 
religion,  and  charity,  and  good  works.  Delegations  of  this  great 
parish  of  mankind  sits  even  in  churches  the  most  traditional, 
listening  through  the  open  windows  to  the  sweet  voices  of  the 
natural  world,  while  the  preacher,  perhaps  himself  also  listening, 
vaguely,  with  half  an  ear,  hums  the  prescriptive  texts,  and  spins 
with  the  old  assiduity  his  doctrinal  snares. 

It  is  not  easy  at  once  to  gauge  the  precise  nature  and  limits  of 
a  man's  influence,  who  has  sounded  the  world's  popular  systems 
with  the  plummet  of  learning,  held  by  a  humane  and  vigorous 


432  LIFE   AND    COERESPONDENCE   OF 

hand,  and  whose  primitive  sentiments  look  from  above  through  a 
broad,  pellucid  understanding,  in  which,  as  in  a  dry  light,  things 
appear  to  him  as  they  are.  He  has  not  the  beneficence  of  a 
great  organizer  of  thought,  or  of  imagination ;  he  displays  no 
special  knacks  of  metaphysics,  and  does  not  make  progress  by 
mining  and  boring  ;  the  long  roll  of  the  orator  does  not  call 
men  together  for  a  day's  muster.  His  excellence  was  not  merely 
in  the  exposition  of  some  preliminary  processes  of  mind.  .  No 
processes  appear,  but  instead  of  them,  light  and  warmth,  broad 
elements  of  hope,  and  humanity,  and  faith. 

FROM   THE   JOURNAL. 

Oct.  5,  1858. — The  Music  Hall  opened  three  weeks  ago,  and  has  been 
filled  with  quite  large  congregations.  Our  course  of  lectures  begins 
to-morrow.  Mr.  Sanborn  gives  the  introductory  poem. 

The  course  of  lectures  was  that  known  as  the  Fraternity 
Course,  which  was  put  forth  by  a  parochial  organization  of  the 
Twenty-Eighth  Congregational  Society,  established  for  charitable 
and  philanthropic  purposes.  It  was  very  active,  and  did  a  great 
deal  of  good  in  a  quiet  way.  The  character  of  the  lectures 
reflected  the  free,  progressive  character  of  the  Society.  Men  and 
women  were  invited  to  speak  who  had  something  to  say  upon 
all  the  great  humane  subjects  of  the  day,  to  which  the  ordinary 
lyceums  in  cities  seldom  tolerate  any  direct  allusion.  In  the 
country  and  the  small  towns,  the  real  questions  of  society  fare 
better,  and  the  stock  subjects  of  lecturers  are  heard  with  indif 
ference.  It  is  plain  that  Mr.  Parker  could  not  lecture  before  any 
of  the  associations  in  Boston  which  annually  blossom  into  a 
course.  His  words  were  welcomed  by  great  audiences,  from  the 
Penobscot  to  the  Mississippi.  But  the  east  wind  blew  in  Boston 
at  the  mention  of  his  name. 

After  the  establishment  of  the  Fraternity  Course,  he  had  an 
opportunity  to  lecture,  which  he  occasionally  improved.  We 
owe  to  it  the  admirable  Biography  of  Franklin,  which  he  first 
preached  in  a  fragmentary  form  as  a  sermon,  and  then  presented  as 
a  lecture.  It  was  a  favorite  subject ;  he  loved  to  trace  the  lives 
of  strong  men  who  grew  in  an  American  fashion.  This  lecture 
he  elaborated  with  great  care,  and  wrote  it  three  times  over ; 
once,  however,  in  consequence  of  losing  the  manuscript  on  his 
return  from  delivering  it  in  South  Boston. 

There  was  not  a  religious  society  in  Boston  at  the  time  of  Mr. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  433 

Parker's  last  illness  that  wielded  so  great  a  practical  and  cha 
ritable  power  as  the  Fraternity  of  the  Music  Hall.  Its  earnest 
young  men  and  women  took  the  life  of  Mr.  Parker's  great  heart 
as  he  poured  it  into  them,  and  carried  it  out  through  Boston 
streets,  to  put  it  to  the  lips  of  the  fugitive  and  the  miserable.  Is 
not  that  a  sacrament  for  a  Church  to  blossom  into,  better  than  a 
conventional  communion  ?  The  bread  and  wine,  and  the  Chris 
tian  fraternity,  went  out  for  those  who  needed  them.  These 
true  disciples  did  two  things — they  showed  their  faith  by  their 
works,  and  they  showed  how  faith  could  flourish  without  rites 
and  observances. 

The  bronze  statue  of  the  man  whose  greatest  symphony  broke 
forth  into  a  song  of  joy  for  earth's  millions,  looked  over  the 
preacher,  steadfast  as  bronze  himself,  while  the  warm  heart  beat 
and  flowed.  An  earth  must  be  rugged  and  solid  to  contain  its 
own  broad  tides.  The  preacher  and  the  composer  were  kindred 
in  sorrows  and  in  moral  quality,  in  love  and  in  scorn  ;  they 
built  faith  upon  the  essential  harmonies  of  the  great  world  of 
nature  and  of  man,  and  bade  the  tumultuous  passages  of  life 
resolve  themselves,  with  all  their  low,  presageful  thunder,  into 
the  triumphant  security  which  only  the  man  who  has  kept  him 
self  like  a  little  child  can  feel. 

In  this  world  there  is  no  end  of  fine  coincidences  where 
things  themselves  are  fine.  The  great  German  stands  mutely  in 
the  hall  of  the  great  American,  while  he  preaches  a  universal 
doctrine. 

"  lu  the  mighty  realm  of  music  there  is  but  a  single  speech,1' 
and  that  is  the  speech  of  all  hearts  who  yearn  for  the  harmonies 
of  God  ;  deep  religious  awe,  tender  dependence,  flashing,  sarcastic 
sincerity,  fiery  indignation,  pure  humanity,  love  that  melts  all 
races,  like  kindred  drops,  into  one  heart,  even  that  heart  which 
the  Father,  through  all  diversities,  is  striving  to  create. 

Some  people  say  they  are  not  indebted  to  Mr.  Parker  for  a 
single  thought.  The  word  "  thought"  is  so  loosely  used,  that  a 
definition  of  terms  must  precede  our  estimate  of  Mr.  Parker's 
suggestiveness  and  originality.  Men  who  are  kept  by  a  common 
place-book  go  about  raking  everywhere  for  glittering  scraps, 
which  they  carry  home  to  be  sorted  in  their  aesthetic  junk-shop. 
Any  portable  bit  that  strikes  the  fancy  is  a  thought.  There 
are  literary  rag-pickers  of  every  degree  of  ability  ;  and  a  great 
deal  of  judgment  can  be  shown  in  finding  the  scrap  or  nail  you 
29 


434  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OP 

want  in  a  heap  of  rubbish.  Quotable  matter  is  generally  con 
sidered  to  be  strongly  veined  with  thought.  Some  people  esti 
mate  a  writer  according  to  the  number  of  apt  sentences  embedded 
in  his  work.  But  who  is  judge  of  aptness  itself  ?  What  is  apt 
for  an  epigram  is  not  apt  for  a  revolution :  the  shock  of  a  witty 
antithesis  is  related  to  the  healthy  stimulus  of  creative  thinking, 
as  a  small  electrical  battery  is  to  the  terrestrial  currents.  Well- 
built  rhetorical  climaxes,  sharp  and  sudden  contrasts,  Poor 
Richard's  common-sense,  a  page  boiled  down  to  a  sentence,  a  fresh 
simile  from  nature,  a  subtle  mood  projected  upon  nature,  a  swift 
controversial  retort,  all  these  things  are  called  thoughts  ;  the  plea 
sure  in  them  is  so  great,  that  one  fancies  they  leave  him  in  their 
debt.  That  depends  upon  one's  standard  of  indebtedness.  Now 
a  penny-a-liner  is  indebted  to  a  single  phrase  which  furnishes  his 
column  ;  a  clergyman  near  Saturday  night  seizes  with  rapture  the 
clue  of  a  fine  simile  which  spins  into  a  "  beautiful  sermon  ;"  for 
the  material  of  his  verses  a  rhymester  is  "  indebted"  to  an  anec 
dote  or  incident.  In  a  higher  degree  all  kinds  of  literary  work 
are  indebted  to  that  commerce  of  ideas  between  the  minds  of  all 
nations,  which  fit  up  interiors  more  comfortably,  and  upholster 
them  better  than  before.  And  everything  that  gets  into  circu 
lation  is  called  a  thought,  be  it  a  discovery  in  science,  a  mechanical 
invention,  the  statement  of  a  natural  law,  comparative  statistics, 
rules  of  economy,  diplomatic  circulars,  and  fine  magazine  writing. 
It  is  the  manoeuvring  of  'the  different  arms  in  the  great  service 
of  humanity,  solid  or  dashing,  on  a  field  already  gained.  But 
the  thought  which  organizes  the  fresh  advance  goes  with  the 
pioneer  train  that  bridges  streams,  that  mines  the  hill,  that  feels 
the  country.  The  controlling  plan  puts  itself  forth  with  that 
swarthy  set  of  leather-aproned  men,  shouldering  picks  and  axes. 
How  brilliantly  the  uniforms  defile  afterward,  with  flashing 
points  and  rythmic  swing,  over  the  fresh  causeway,  to  hold  and 
maintain  a  position  whose  value  was  ideally  conceived.  So  that 
the  brightest  facings  do  not  cover  the  boldest  thought. 

We  are  only  really  indebted  to  that  thought  which  premedi 
tates  and  selects  the  great  points  for  a  moving  world,  and  that  is 
always  a  combination  of  insight,  temperament,  and  will.  The 
whole  man  is  the  thought  to  which  we  are  indebted.  His  sen 
tences  are  not  smart  traps  into  which  he  steps  to  be  held  while 
you  look  at  him.  You  cannot  bag  your  game  in  that  way,  and 
stock  your  larder.  Probably  your  whole  house  would  not  hold 


THEODORE   PARKER.  435 

him.  In  that  case,  his  is  not  the  thought  to  which  you  care  to 
be  indebted.  You  will  go  hunting  for  other  marsh  birds,  who 
live  by  suction,  plunging  their  bills,  sensitive  to  fare,  in  every  pool. 

Certainly  the  exigencies  of  a  commonplace-book  are  not  the 
measure  of  originality.  And  as  no  single  thought  in  any  form 
can  be  pronounced  new,  so  all  thinking  which  is  full  of  the 
blood  of  old  thoughts,  and  beating  with  nature's  primitive  pulse, 
is  original.  It  may  be  quotable  besides  ;  but  its  originality  is 
movement,  direction,  sincerity,  and  power.  It  is  a  bold,  deep- 
breathing  man  who  plants  the  whole  of  himself  forward  with 
each  step,  sowing  all  the  furrows,  not  with  a  gift,  nor  a  view,  nor 
any  knacks  of  mind  or  fingers,  but  with  the  health  of  his  per 
sonality,  as  he  lets  conscience,  intellect,  and  heart  forth  in  one 
untrammelled  jubilation  over  nature's  beautiful  spring  day.  His 
audacious  looks  reflect  the  climate  and  the  sun.  It  is  his  genius 
to  stifle  in  a  close  room,  and  to  be  well  enough  to  rough  it  in 
the  open  air.  We  sit  inside  cramming  note-books,  putting  bugs 
in  spirits,  labelling  drawers  full  of  fossils  and  tenantless  shells, 
enriching  our  cabinet.  His  cheery  voice  comes  in  like  the  warm, 
meadow-scented  wind,  recommending  the  living  and  thriving 
nature  outside  to  us  who  are  cataloguing  nature  within.  If  we 
cannot  stand  a  draught  we  slam  down  the  window,  pitying 
people  in  the  weather  and  predicting  various  ills. 

This  kind  of  originality  will  not  respect  our  preconceptions. 
It  has  no  time  for  that.  Persons  who  join  exploring  expeditions 
find  at  first  that  Nature  disdains  their  city  ways  ;  she  is  very 
rude,  and  occasionally  there  is  a  touch  of  contempt  in  the  way  she 
handles  them.  They  bear  all  this  for  the  sake  of  getting  even 
tually  upon  the  sky-bounded  prairies  ;  there  they  discover 
something  better  than  buffaloes  and  Indians  ;  better,  even,  than 
clear-water  valleys  with  distant  blue  gentian-fringed  mountains. 
They  discover  a  capacity  to  be  on  friendly  terms  with  the  sin 
cerity  of  the  air  and  the  earth.  The  disdain  is  found  to  be 
nothing  but  the  unconscious  freedom  of  the  weather.  So  we  fare 
with  men  whose  thoughts  emancipate.  Not  dreaming  that  our 
chamber  needed  ventilation,  we  set  forth  some  day,  and  at  first 
find  it  cheerless  sleeping  with  the  ceiling  fled  off  to  the  stars, 
while  vague  perils  assail  us.  It  is  very  shocking  to  be  without  our 
usual  conveniences.  When  the  exigencies  of  the  scene  dispense  with 
the  little  delicacies  and  contrivances  of  our  genteel  housekeeping, 
it  is  like  trifling  with  sacred  subjects.  "We  suspect  that  something 


436  LIFE  OF  THEODORE  PARKER. 

malignant,  under  pretence  of  enlarging  our  estate,  has  robbed 
us  of  all  that  is  dear  and  precious.  If  we  have  made  an  attempt 
to  bring  with  us  a  cherished  utensil,  to  serve  whatsoever  turn — 
crockery  and  tinware,  to  maintain  some  culinary  traditions — -one 
by  one  they  are  sacrificed  to  freedom  of  movement,  and  our  course 
is  marked  by  household  relics.  When  the  pack  is  well  cleared  out 
how  lightsome  is  the  march  !  We  smile  at  our  old  horror,  and 
enjoy  Nature's  satire  upon  impediments.  Nature  never  means 
to  hurt  our  feelings  ;  she  shines  and  grows  ;  the  brightening  wea 
ther  laughs  at  the  retreating  thunder ;  the  grass  has  no  bad 
motive  in  drenching  our  feet  ;  the  lightning  but  emphasizes  the 
element  which  the  bud  and  wheat-ear  gratefully  confirm. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

His  Influence  :  shown  by  Various  Letters — From  the  West — From  England  and  Germany 
—To  H.  A.  W.— Patience  Ford— John  Brown,  the  Blacksmith— To  Miss  Cobbe — From 
Mr.  Buckle  and  Professor  Grervinus. 

THE  wide  influence  which  the  sermons  preached  in  the  Music 
Hall  attained,  as  they  were  scattered  in  volumes  or  the  phono 
graphic  reports  of  newspapers,  is  shown  in  a  remarkable  way  by 
the  letters  received  by  him  from  all  quarters  of  the  world,  from 
persons  of  both  sexes,  and  of  every  estate  in  life.  If  they  could 
be  published,  they  would  create  the  most  emphatic  endorsement 
and  guarantee  of  the  fitness  of  his  nature  to  reach  the  heart  of 
mankind,  and  to  feed  its  inmost  longings.  He  was  sought  by 
young  and  ardent  minds,  during  the  period  of  transition  in  New 
England,  and  later  in  the  "West,  when  parties  were  changing,  and 
old  modes  of  thought  were  breaking  up.  They  came  to  him  as 
to  a  master  :  there  was  no  reservation  in  the  eagerness  and 
positive  abandonment  of  their  hearts  to  his  brotherly  society. 
People  who  desired  to  know  what  were  the  facts  about  theology 
and  religion,  troubled  by  creeds,  just  cast  adrift  from  them,  and 
uncertain  where  next  to  go, — soldiers,  students,  laborers,  shop 
keepers,  Catholics,  Methodists,  and  members  of  all  sects, — people 
with  special  questions  about  retribution,  God,  non-resistance, 
miracles,  free-will,  many  who  were  in  distress  or  uncongenial 
circumstances,  suffering  from  intemperance,  pining  for  want  of 
remunerative  labor,  and  all  people  who  longed  to  be  of  service  to 
their  kind ;  young  converts  who  had  become  suspicious  of  the 
machinery  which  turned  them  out  Church  members  ;  old  men, 
filled  suddenly  with  profound  dissatisfaction  at  dogmas  which 
they  fancied  they  believed ;  and  whole  neighborhoods  speaking 
through  their  ready  writer,  who  had  been  put  forward  to  ask 
some  news  of  him ;  it  was  as  if  a  great  crowd  hurried  towards 


438  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

a  clear  and  steadfast  voice  that  hailed  them  to  come  over  where 
it  spoke,  by  the  only  safe  and  speedy  way.  What  a  testimony 
to  the  horrors  of  Calvinism  sleeps  in  these  still  letters,  that  were 
once  wet  with  tears  before  they  came  to  him — and  often  after 
wards  !  It  was  in  this  way,  that  his  dread  of  the  logical  effects 
of  that  violent  and  narrow  creed  became  confirmed.  He  had 
documents  enough,  sealed  with  the  heart's  blood  of  the  writers, 
to  bear  him  out  in  the  strongest  things  he  ever  said. 

He  prized  above  all  other  communications  of  this  kind,  the 
awkward  and  ill-spelled  letters  of  laboring  men,  through  whose 
grotesque  sentences  divine  desires  struggled  to  reach  him,  as  if 
with  gnarled  and  calloused  hand,  to  grasp  his  own  large  and 
manly  one. 

In  December,  1857,  he  writes  to  a  friend  : — 

I  send  you  a  letter,  which  I  count  as  precious.  Here  it  is — from 
Minnesota — a  curious  specimen  of  our  civilization,  and  the  proof  of  the 
relation  which  a  thinking  scholar  may  stand  in  to  the  great  mass  of  the 
people.  Please  return  it  by-and-bye,  or  keep  it  safe  against  our  meet 
ing—which  is  the  better  way. 

Here  it  is,  a  little  helped  in  spelling,  perhaps,  but  not  other 
wise  meddled  with  : — 

Aug.  30,  1857. 

ME.  PABKER — DEAE  SIE, — I  take  the  liberty  to  make  you  ac 
quainted  with  a  request  that  has  been  made  to  me  a  number  of  times, 
and  that  is  this — to  ask  what  way  we  may  obtain  your  sermons  regular, 
or  such  ones  as  would  be*  adapted  to  our  situation.  I  came  to  this 
place  one  year  ago.  I  had  a  town  laid  out,  &c.,  and  commenced  opera 
tions.  We  have  a  flour-mill,  two  saw-mills,  blacksmith-shops.  My 
hotel  is  most  done.  I  am  now  living  in  a  log-house,  which  answers 
for  hotel,  church,  town-house,  school-house,  and  last  spring  was  used  for 
a  fort  to  keep  secure  from  the  Indians.  But  we  are  fast  completing 
other  buildings  for  the  same  purposes  mentioned  above. 

I  left  Boston  last  June  with  my  family,  and  among  our  library  we 
have  two  volumes  of  your  sermons,  Nos.  1  and  2,  and  in  the  absence 
of  our  minister,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  try  and  satisfy  the  audience 
by  giving  them  something  from  your  works,  which  has  had  the  effect  to 
cause  them  to  ask  for  more,  and  to-day  I  have  been  requested  to  give 
them  one  more  of  your  sermons,  as  our  Close-communion  Baptist  is  not 
present,  "  A  Sermon  of  Old  Age." 

It  is  now  requested  that  a  part  of  each  Sabbath  be  occupied  in 
listening  to  one  of  your  sermons.  Now,  sir,  if  you  will  send  to  me 
such  of  your  sermons  as  in  your  judgment  will  suit  a  frontierman's 
mind  best,  I  will  settle  the  bill  whenever  it  is  presented.  You  think 
strange  of  this  way  of  proceeding,  but  that  may  be  explained  here 
after.  There  are  a  number  of  your  hearers  in  this  place.  You  will 
not  know  the  signature  of  this.  I  have  attended  your  meeting  at  the 


THEODORE   PARKER.  439 

Music  Hall  but  little,  from  the  fact  that  soon  after  I  heard  you  preach 
I  moved  from  Boston  to  Melrose,  which  made  it  inconvenient  for  me 
to  attend  your  meeting  in  the  city. 

Among  the  numerous  examples  of  Mr.  Parker's  influence,  let 
one  suffice.  Jt  is  the  story  of  the  beautiful  development  of  a 
soul,  out  of  poor  and  ordinary  circumstances,  and  notwithstanding 
all  the  discouragements  which  friends,  the  Churches,  and  society 
so  well  know  how  to  deploy  against  the  independent  seeker. 
This  poor  boy  tells  his  life  in  letters  from  the  Far  West.  The  first 
two  or  three  are  illiterate,  without  punctuation,  and  of  uncertain 
spelling,  but  they  improve  rapidly,  and  blossom  with  all  the  re 
finement  and  fragrance  of  a  religious  heart.  It  is  almost  like 
the  miles  of  waving  western  corn,  the  miracle  of  a  single  season. 

"  Four  years  ago,"  commences  the  first  letter  or  call  of  this 
lad  to  the  strong  and  famous  preacher,  "  I  had  the  misfortune 
to  lose  my  left  hand  by  an  accident. '  Since  that  time,  until  the 
winter  before  last,  I  went  to  school  where  I  live.  The  winter 
before  last,  my  brothers  and  friends  raised  sufficient  money  amongst 
them  to  send  me  to  a  school  in  Wisconsin.  While  there  (1854-5), 
I  saw  one  of  your  works,  with  the  title,  *  Discourse  on  Matters 
pertaining  to  Religion/  " 

The  next  winter  he  made  a  little  money  by  teaching  a  district 
school.  Part  of  it  he  sent  to  Little  and  Brown  for  more  volumes 
of  Mr.  Parker. 

I  had  several  disputes  with  prominent  Church-members,  and  soon  the 
hue  and  cry  ran  through  the  village  that  I  was  a  confirmed  infidel,  and 
when  I  would  give  them  arguments  that  they  could  not  answer,  they 
would  ask  with  a  sneer,  whether  a  boy  like  me — being  only  twenty-one 
years  old — should  attempt  to  teach  ministers.  Last  week  I  made  a 
public  lecture  agaiust  Slavery  and  for  Fremont,  during  which  I  quoted 
a  passage  from  the  Bible.  Since  that,  the  whole  town  nearly  have  risen 
against  me,  and  with  pious  horror  they  ejaculate,  "  An  infidel  to  quote 
Bible  as  argument !  "  Even  my  brother  and  friends  have  turned  against 
me,  and  I  expect  in  a  few  days  to  have  no  home.  I  am  poor.  Last 
summer  I  worked  out  as  a  day-labourer  on  a  farm,  but  even  that  has 
failed — nobody  will  receive  the  infidel  —  in  their  family.  If  I  had  the 
means  I  would  stay  here,  and  alone  I  would  face  and  tear  down  their 

dreadful  theology. 

"  • " ' ' 
He  wants  to  get  some  employment  in  Boston,  where  "  I  may 

clasp  you  by  the  hand,  listen  to  your  noble  words,  and  take 
example  from  your  manly  life."  We  can  imagine  what  answer 
the  farm-bred  preacher  sent  to  this  day-labourer  with  the  divine 
thoughts  waking  in  his  soul. 


440  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 


TO   MR.   H.   A.    W.,   MENDON,    ILLINOIS. 

Boston,  Oct.  10.  1856. 

DEAE  SIR, — You  case  is  a  very  hard  one,  but  I  do  not  know  what 
advice  to  give  you.  It  would  be  in  vain  to  venture  to  Boston  or  any  of 
the  eastern  towns — where  the  avenues  to  all  kinds  of  business  are 
more  crowded  than  with  you  at  the  "West.  I  feel  the  warmest  sympathy 
with  you,  and  trust  that  patient  efforts  will  secure  you  the  victory  in 
the  end.  There  are  several  modes  which  men  try  to  overcome  an  enemy 
withal;  one  is  to  knock  him  down,  another  to  talk  him  down,  but,  I 
think,  the  manly  way  is  to  live  him  down.  After  a  little  while,  farmers 
will  sow  the  wheat  which  gives  the  largest  crop  of  the  best  kind  of 
grain,  and  will  not  care  much  by  what  name  it  is  called.  If  Hebrew 
wheat  only  yields  ten  bushels  to  the  acre,  and  heathen  wheat  yields 
thirty  of  a  better  quality,  the  bad  name  won't  keep  the  wheat  from  the 
fields. 

It  is  always  pleasant  to  try  and  live  down  the  evil  name  which  good 
deeds  bring  on  a  man.  You  are  always  sure  of  the  peaceful  victory  at 
last. 

Believe  me,  yours  truly, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

THE    ANSWER. 

DEAR  FRIEND, — Allow  me  to  call  you  so.  I  received  your  letter, 
but  words  cannot  express  the  delight  with  which  I  read  it,  and  the 
strength  that  I  received  from  your  advice  and  expressions  of  sympathy 
— sympathy  on  a  subject  that  of  all  subjects  is  the  dearest  to  me,  but 
which  for  many  years  I  have  had  no  one  to  sympathize  with. 

Then  follows  a  little  sketch  of  his  personal  history.  The 
father  and  mother  were  English,  of  the  Episcopal  Church  ;  he 
was  the  youngest  of  a  large  family,  which  emigrated  when  he 
was  eleven  years  old.  Three  weeks  after  they  reached  the  West 
the  mother  died.  "  She  only  knew  my  wishes  and  desires,  and 
sympathized  with  me.  My  memory  still  goes  back  to  the  time5 
when  I  sat  at  her  feet  and  heard  of  a  loving  God."  The  family 
was  decent  and  moral,  but  absorbed  in  the  day's  work.  No 
one  spoke  to  him  to  ask  if  the  soul  also  hungered.  But  when 
the  "  Discourse  "  fell  in  his  way, — 

I  had  at  last  found  a  key  to  that  something.  I  knew  not  what  it  was, 
lying  dormant  within  me.  My  relations  and  friends  are  pained 
and  angry  with  me.  They  ask  me  why  I  do  not  go  too,  and  make 
money  ;  they  tell  me  that  I  have  talents  and  eloquence  which,  if  I  will 
throw  away  my  suicidal  notions,  will  place  me  in  a  high  position  and 
fill  my  lap  with  gold.  But  you  can  sympathize  with  me.  I  feel  like 
one  that  has  just  awoke  from  a  horrid  dream.  I  have  found  there  is 
something  to  'live  for,  and  that  instead  of  my  pocket  I  have  a  mind  to 
cultivate.  It  is  as  you  say,  a  person  with  natural  talents  can  live  with- 


THEODORE    PARKER.  441 

out  much  effort  here  in  this  magnificent  country.  But  consider  my 
situation ;  I  can  live  here  easier  than  any  place  that  I  know  of,  but  I 
want  some  one  to  sympathize  with  me,  not  that  I  am  afraid,  or  have  no 
faith  in  the  truths  that  I  have  read,  but  there  is  something  within  me 
that  longs  for  that  twin  sister  of  love.  I  am  a  child  in  feelings  if  not 
in  body.  Ofttimes  as  I  have  been  reading  your  manly  words,  my  heart 
has  gone  out  towards  you,  and  I  have  longed  with  an  irresistible 
longing  to  be  near  you.  And  since  I  have  been  writing,  I  have 
wished  that  I  could  be  in  the  place  of  this  letter,  and  that  you  could 
look  into  my  eyes  and  read  me  as  you  can  this  letter.  But  if  that 
cannot  be  now,  let  me  hear  from  you  often.  "Write  brave  words  to 
me.  And  I  will  endeavour  to  live  down  all  opposition. 

He  has  caught  the  Western  frankness  and  intuitive  apprecia 
tion,  which  created  for  Mr.  Parker  one  of  his  chief  consolations. 
It  hailed  him  unsolicited,  from  every  social  rank,  as  pioneers 
shout  to  each  other  across  the  prairies,  for  guidance  and  good- 
cheer. 

TO   THE    SAME. 

Boston,  Nov.  3,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter  which  I  find  on 
returning  from  your  State.  I  confess  I  know  of  nothing  which  calms, 
cheers,  and  strengthens  a  man  so  much  as  a  fixed  and  abiding  con 
fidence  in  God.  If  I  am  sure  of  the  cause  and  providence  of  the 
universe,  I  am  sure  that  all  things  at  last  will  turn  out  well.  If  I  am 
not  certain  of  Him,  I  am  sure  of  nothing  else.  The  great  vice  of  all 
the  religious  systems  in  the  world  is  this — they  do  not  know  the  per 
fect  and  infinite  God,  so  they  have  only  a  poor  and  imperfect  trust  in 
God,  and,  instead  of  love,  nothing  but  fear.  To  my  apprehension,  reli 
gion  is  natural  piety — the  love  of  God — and  natural  morality,  the 
keeping  of  the  laws  He  has  written  on  matter  and  man. 

It  is  not  easy  to  find  any  wide  sympathy  with  opinions  dear  to  you, 
for  they  are  yet  too  new  in  the  world.  But  the  noble  man  gradually 
makes  a  little  circle  of  friends  about  him  who  sympathize  with  his  best 
emotions,  and  soon  the  circle  grows  wider.  The  history  of  mankind 
seems  dark  as  you  look  back,  so  much  stumbling  for  so  short  a  walk, 
but  when  you  look  forward  you  see  the  signs  of  triumph  for  the  indi 
vidual  and  the  race.  It  is  sure  to  come,  and  every  earnest,  good  man, 
put  him  where  you  may,  will  do  something  to  help  the  victory  to 
draw  nigh. 

Let  me  hear  from  you  from  time  to  time,  and  believe  me,  truly  your 
friend, 

T.  P. 

The  next  letter  describes  his  success  at  inoculating  the  chief 
minister  and  enemy  with  the  "  Discourse  on  Religion/'  "He 
has  now  your  sermons  on  Theism,  Atheism,  and  the  Popular 
Theology,  which  he  has  taken  without  any  of  his  former  reluct 
ance,  and  which,  in  fact,  he  seemed  anxious  to  take/' 


442  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

Dear  friend,  you  know  not  with  what  joy  I  read  and  re-read  your 
last  letter,  and  treasured  up  your  expressions  of  friendship  ;  and  when 
I  think  of  the  terrible  opposition  that  you  have  braved  and  are  still 
braving,  it  gives  me  a  confidence  and  hope  that  nothing  can  subdue. 

Now  a  change  has  come  over  the  hand- writing,  and  the 
arrangement  of  the  sentences.  There  is  a  rhythm  in  the  feeling 
and  the  style. 

When  the  cold  shoulder  of  contempt  is  turned  towards  me,  when 
the  finger  of  scorn  is  levelled  at  me,  when  there  is  no  one  to  whom  I 
can  look  for  sympathy  and  instruction  in  the  great  truths  of  religion, 
I  turn  to  thee  with  all  the  confidence  of  a  child  to  a  parent — confident 
of  thy  sympathy,  confident  of  thy  love.  Oh,  how  I  wish,  now,  while 
my  mind  is  forming,  that  I  could  be  near  you,  and  mould  my  mind 
after  the  manliness,  the  beauty,  and  all-embracing  love  of  thine  !  But, 
with  the  assurance  of  God's  aid  and  thy  sympathy,  I  will  go  forward 
a  seeker  after  truth,  let  it  come  in  whatever  form  it  may. 

There  has  come  a  change  over  my  mind,  a  calmness,  a  contentedness, 
a  peace,  that  I  never  knew  before.  I  can  compare  my  life  up  to  the 
present  time  to  a  vine  without  support,  crawling  along  the  ground, 
clasping  and  clinging  to  all  kinds  of  dirt  and  rubbish,  but  which  has 
at  last  reached  a  support,  and  begun  to  climb ;  it  looks  back  on  the 
time  and  strength  it  has  expended  in  reaching  that  support ;  it  looks 
up  though  the  path  seems  steep  and  rugged,  and  the  winds  of  adver 
sity  for  the  moment  arrest  its  progress.  Tet  it  will  only  cling  the 
closer,  and  go  on  climbing  till  it  dies. 

Following  this  are  some  questions  addressed  to  Mr.  Parker 
upon  immortality,  and  the  future  growth  of  the  soul  out  of  its 
present  habits  and  restrictions. 

The  next  letter  is  dated  two  months  later,  in  1857. 

I  wish  I  could  express  to  you  on  paper  my  feelings,  the  joy,  the 
peace,  the  satisfaction  I  feel  in  contemplating  the  thoughts  of  the  good 
God  in  His  works.  It  is  not  a  great  while  since  the  thought  of  God 
was  the  most  terrible  that  ever  crossed  my  mind.  What  hopeless 
agony  I  have  suffered,  as  in  the  dead  of  night  I  have  thought  of  the 
endless  hell  to  which  in  all  probability  I  was  hastening  !  and  yet  the 
grim  and  ghastly  hell  of  the  Christian  theology  was  preferable  to  its 
idea  of  God.  But,  thank  God,  it  is  past,  though  it  is  hard  to  have 
"  Infidel ! "  hissed  in  my  ears,  to  have  those  whom  I  once  considered  my 
bosom  friends  turn  away.  Yet  I  gladly  bear  it ;  yes,  ten  times  more, 
than  turn  back  to  my  former  belief. 

I  have  new  thoughts,  new  objects,  new  aspirations ;  everything  is  new, 
new  heavens,  new  earth,  with  no  dark  future  beyond.  But  I  look 
forward  to  a  future  bright,  glorious,  grand ;  and  I  look  forward  with  a 
peaceful  calmness  that  is  surprising  to  me.  There  is  no  fear,  for  I 
cannot  fear  what  is  good. 

My  mind  is  settled  as  to  my  future  object  in  life.  It  is  my  wish  to 
follow  in  your  footsteps,  and  preach  to  others  the  truths  you  have 


THEODORE    PARKER.  448 

awakened  in  my  mind,  and,  God  help  me !  I  will  do  it  faithfully  and 
fearlessly. 

This  is  the  emancipation  which  the  broad  and  humane  thought 
proclaimed,  as  it  won  thousands  of  souls  from  the  slavery  of 
indifference  or  fear. 

The  next  letter  was  written  in  the  spring  of  1858. 

Last  summer  I  worked  on  a  farm,  though  it  may  appear  somewhat 
strange  to  you  that  a  person  with  one  hand  could  work  to  advantage  as 
a  farmer.  Yet,  I  find  that  knowledge  is  power.  Last  winter  I  devoted 
three  months  to  study,  but  as  soon  as  spring  came,  the  warm  sun  called 
me  to  the  open  fields.  I  know  not  why,  but  I  love  to  turn  the  generous 
soil,  to  scatter  wide  the  seed,  to  watch  the  peering  blades  as  they  come 
forth,  and  to  meditate  on  the  laws  of  growth  and  reproduction.  The 
little  birds,  mate  with  mate,  seem  to  be  full  and  running  over  with 
joyous  notes,  as  they  flutter  hither,  choosing  a  place  to  build  their 
nest  and  raise  their  young.  I  love  the  noble,  generous  steeds  that 
draw  my  plough,  fleet  as  the  deer,  graceful  in  proportion  as  nature 
made  them,  their  spirits  unbroken  by  the  whip  or  spur;  but  they 
will  come  at  my  call,  and  look  at  me  with  such  expression  in  their 
large  eloquent  eyes,  that  I  have  often  wished  they  could  talk  and  tell 
me  their  feelings.  I  know  they  love  me,  and  their  love  is  returned 
with  compound  interest. 


I  hope  I  have  done  something.  I  have  circulated  your  works  to 
some  extent  here,  and,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  they  have  not 
failed  to  convince  all  who  have  read  with  them  with  care. 


For  three  weeks  past  there  has  been  here  what  is  called  a  revival  of 
religion ;  meetings  have  been  held  every  day,  and  the  whole  town  is 
stirred  up  in  such  a  manner  as  I  have  never  seen  it  before.  The  farmer 
has  left  his  plough,  and  the  mechanic  his  shop,  and  all  joined  in  the 
general  commotion.  I  respect  any  effort  that  a  man  makes  to  approach 
his  Maker,  yet  I  do  not  see  that  this  way  makes  their  minds  any  freer, 
or  their  ideas  of  God  purer.  Last  Friday,  two  ministers  came  to  see 
me :  we  had  a  long  talk,  which  only  resulted  in  making  me  still 
stronger  in  my  opinions,  and  to  wonder  still  more  that  educated  men 
should  cling  to  doctrines  without  foundation. 

In  the  summer  of  1858  he  reported  as  follows : — 

I  can  see  a  gradual  and  steadily  advancing  inquiry  after  truth. 
Much  has  been  done  since  spring.  The  books  of  yours,  which  I  own  have 
been  going  steadily  from  house  to  house,  and  the  desire  to  read  them  has 
been  growing  stronger  every  day.  I  have  been  thinking  lately  that 
we  ought  to  form  ourselves  into  a  society,  as  by  that  means  the  bond 
of  union  would  be  closer,  and  more  could  be  done  in  the  way  of  dis 
tributing  books  and  papers  to  others.  I  would  like  your  opinion  on 
the  subject. 


444  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

He  had  seventeen  acres  of  noble  corn  planted,  during  a  dry 
season,  part  of  which  he  got  into  the  ground  on  Sunday,  because 
it  promised  rain  on  the  morrow. 

Oh,  what  a  huhbuh  it  caused  !  Old  ladies  threw  up  their  hands  and 
eyes  in  horror.  Old  gentlemen  handled  their  canes  with  threatening 
motives.  It  furnished  a  text  for  four  preachers.  The  young  gazed  on 
me  with  eyes  at  least  a  third  larger  than  ordinary.  The  middle-aged, 
to  a  man,  have  been  waiting  impatiently  for  some  special  interposition 
of  Providence.  But,  no — I  am  not  stricken  with  incurable  disease, 
nor  is  my  corn  blasted,  contrary  to  their  expectations  and  wishes,  and, 
I  suspect,  prayers.  There  is  no  change  in  nature,  no  special  provi 
dence  in  their  behalf,  unless  they  consider  it  was  the  cause  of  the  long- 
continued  and  soaking  rains. 

But  the  next  letter  is  from  another  hand  : — 

SIR, has  bin  sick,  is  now  beter;    if  i  should  not  recover,   I 

should   always  think   your  doctrine  right;  he  wishes  a  sermon   on 
immortal  life. 

The  explanation  follows,  in  Nov.  1858,  from  his  own  hand  : — 

I  was  very  sorry  to  hear  of  your  sickness,  and  sincerely  hope  that, 
when  you  receive  this,  you  will  be  convalescent.  Should  you  die,  it 
would  be  a  severe  trial  to  me,  for  thou  art  near  and  dear  to  me.  When 
I  stood  alone  with  no  one  to  encourage  and  advise,  I  wrote  to  you. 
Your  answer  nerved  me  for  the  battle.  At  the  present  time,  instead  of 
standing  alone,  I  have  powerful  and  influential  friends,  and  the  number 
is  slowly  but  surely  increasing.  It  has  been  the  influence  of  your 
letters  that  has  encouraged  me  to  go  forward,  and  should  they  fail  the 
loss  to  me  would  be  great 

Frequently  while  discussing  religious  subjects  with  others,  they  have 
said  that  my  belief  would  do  to  live  by,  but  it  would  not  do  to  die  by. 
The  day  of  trial  came.  On  the  evening  of  the  26th  of  September,  I 
felt  that  I  could  not  live  till  morning.  My  stand  being  close  to  the 
bedside,  while  my  friends  were  absent  for  a  few  minutes,  I  with  great 
effort  wrote  these  words  on  a  piece  of  paper  :  "  I  die  in  the  belief  in 
which  I  live,"  dated  and  signed  it,  and  placed  it  with  my  other  papers. 
"When  my  friends  returned,  I  told  them  I  thought  I  was  going  to  die  ; 
and  I  settled  up  my  worldly  affairs.  The  physician  and  my  friends 
conversed  with  me,  and  tried  to  shake  my  belief,  but  in  vain :  my 
reliance  on  the  infinite  perfection  of  God  grew  stronger ;  there  was  no 
doubt,  no  fear,  but  a  peaceful  happiness  came  over  me.  Gradually  I 
lost  all  consciousness,  my  body  lost  its  feeling,  my  pulse  was  gone.  I  lay 
in  that  state  for  several  hours,  when,  contrary  to  expectation,  I  rallied  ; 
for  a  week  life  hung  in  the  balance.  No  one  could  say  which  way  the 
balance  would  turn.  Part  of  the  time  I  was  conscious,  and  conversed 
freely  with  those  that  came  to  see  me  ;  my  bed  was  besieged  daily  by 
church  members  and  ministers ;  daily  I  was  urged  to  renounce  my 
belief,  but  daily  that  belief  grew  stronger,  and  the  contrast  between 
natural  and  ecclesiastical  religion  grew  wider  and  more  distinct.  At 
the  end  of  a  week,  my  youth  and  excellent  constitution  triumphed. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  445 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Boston,  Dec.  2, 1858. 

Mr  DEAR  SIE, — I  thank  you  for  the  letter  you  so  kindly  sent  me 
Nov.  6th,  which  I  have  not  been  able  to  answer  till  now,  and  at  this 
moment  but  briefly. 

I  am  glad  to  find  that  you  seem  to  be  permanently  convalescent ;  so 
likewise  am  I ;  but,  though  a  great  walker,  I  cannot  yet  accomplish 
more  than  two  miles  a  day,  and  use  another's  hand  to  save  my  own 
when  possible.  I  trust  we  shall  both  be  entirely  well,  and  that  soon. 

I  am  glad  you  held  fast  to  your  faith  amid  the  weakness  of  disease 
and  the  assaults  of  well-meaning  but  bigoted  men.  It  required  some 
courage  to  do  that.  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  find  that  I  have 
helped  any  one  to  learn  the  road  of  true  religion.  Bigotry  and  fear  are 
the  great  enemies  of  the  human  race.  If  I  can  destroy  them,  and 
bring  up  in  their  stead  piety,  which  is  the  love  of  God,  and  morality, 
which  is  the  keeping  of  His  natural  laws,  then  I  shall  feel  that  I  have 
not  lived  in  vain. 

Believe  me,  yours  truly, 

THEODOBE  PAEKEE. 

Mr.  Parker  highly  prized  this  letter  from  John  Brown,  a 
blacksmith  of  Rhinebeek  : — 


TO   THE   REV.    THEODORE   PARKER. 

Rhinebeek,  Dutchess  Co.,  New  York,  Feb.  4,  1859. 

KEY.  SIE, — It's  with  sincere  heartfelt  regret  I've  being  made  ac 
quainted,  through  the  public  press  from  time  to  time,  of  your  severe 
sickness.  Although  we  differ  somewhat  materially  in  our  theological 
views,  I  have  long  been  an  enthusiastical  admirer  of  your  talents  and 
virtues  as  a  man,  a  scholar,  and  a  gentleman.  I  take  this  method  of 
conveying  to  you  my  heartfelt  sympathy  and  condolence  in  your  afflic 
tion  ;  permit  me  to  express  a  hope  it  may  be  of  short  duration,  and 
that  you  may  be  speedily  restored  to  your  former  good  health  and 
usefulness.  And  in  doing  so  I  believe  (in  fact  I  know  it  to  be  so) 
I'm  expressing  the  sentiments  of  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  in  the 
circle  of  ray  acquaintance,  which  is  pretty  extensive  through  the  State, 
and  particulary  in  Dutchess  Co.,  where  I've  resided  for  the  last  25 
years. 

You'll  perceive  I've  made  several  mistakes,  which  you  will  please  par 
don,  as  I  am  nothing  but  a  poor  blacksmith,  with  a  wife  and  family 
depending  upon  my  labor  for  support.  In  conclusion,  accept  of  my 
best  wishes  for  your  present  and  eternal  welfare,  and  believe  me  your 
sincere  friend  and  well-wisher,  now  and  for  ever, 

JOHN  BBOTTST. 


446  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 


TO    MISS   PATIENCE   FORD,   DORCHESTER,    MASS. 

West  Roxbury,  AprQ  18,  1841. 

MY  BEAR  ERIEND, — I  have  just  received  your  letter  and  have  read 
it  both  with  pleasure  and  with  pain  ;  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  find 
that  a  thought  which  has  burnt  in  my  own  bosom,  finds  a  warm  resting- 
place  in  a  pious  heart.  There  is  no  sweeter  joy  on  earth  than  the 
thought  that  you  have  comforted  or  strengthened  one  single  human 
soul ;  have  made  truth  brighter  and  heaven  more  high.  But  it  gives 
me  pain  to  find  you  look  to  me  for  light,  when  I  am  so  ill-qualified  to 
give  it.  Out  of  the  depth  of  your  own  spirit  it  will  spring  up.  "A 
man's  mind  is  sometime  wont  to  tell  him  more  than  seven  watchmen 
that  sit  above  in  a  high  tower,"  said  the  old  wise  man.  The  infinite 
Parent  of  truth  sheds  light,  without  let  or  hindrance,  down  into  all 
souls  that  look  reverently  and  obediently  up  to  HIM.  It  seems  to  me, 
that  if  we  always  obeyed  the  law  God  has  written  on  our  hearts,  the 
decisions  of  reason,  of  conscience,  and  of  faith,  would  be  as  infallible 
in  their  action  as  the  instinct  of  the  bee  and  the  law  of  gravitation 
now  are.  But  no  man  is  in  this  state  ;  so  as  the  penalty  of  our  dis 
obedience,  "  we  grope  for  the  wall  like  blind  men,"  and  "  feel  after 
God  if  haply  we  may  find  Him."  "We  are  not  one  with  God  as  Christ 
was ;  so  we  are  in  doubt  and  fear.  The  best  and  wisest  men  feel  this 
the  most  deeply.  Jesus  alone  felt  none  of  it.  His  obedience  was 
perfect,  and  so  God's  truth  passed  through  him  as  light  through  the 
celestial  spaces  where  there  is  no  atmosphere,  and  was  not  bent  to 
either  side.  You  ask  an  explanation  of  one  passage  in  the  sermon. 
After  I  preached  it,  I  felt  it  might  be  understood  to  mean  something 
I  never  assented  to.  It  belonged  originally  to  a  course  of  several 
sermons,  and  the  others  would  perhaps  explain  what  was  obscure  in 
this.  I  meant  simply  that  Jesus  was  not  all  that  human  nature  is 
capable  of  becoming,  that  is,  He  was  not  a  poet,  astronomer,  architect, 
or  musician.  He  did  not  come  to  be  a  Milton,  a  Leibnitz,  a  Michael 
Angelo,  or  a  Mozart.  This  does  not  diminish  his  greatness.  I  meant 
to  imply  that  each  blackbird  is  all  that  any  blackbird  or  all  blackbirds 
can  be.  But  no  one  man  has  ever  developed  on  earth  the  whole  of  the 
capabilities  involved  and  folded  up  in  his  nature. 

This  was  doubtless  the  case  with  Jesus.  If  you  wish  to  learn  astro 
nomy  or  music  you  do  not  go  to  the  Gospels,  for  Christ  did  not  come 
to  teach  these  arts.  I  take  it,  this  statement  would  harm  no  man's 
feelings.  .  But,  on  the  other  hand,  in  his  own  department  of  morality, 
religion,  a  divine  life,  perfect  goodness,  I  think  he  was  true,  perfect, 
and  complete.  We  can  see  no  limitation  to  his  perfection  in  this 
respect.  He  was  all  that  man  can  be  of  goodness  and  religion.  He 
was  all  of  God  there  can  be  in  a  perfectly  good  and  religious  man.  So 
he  could  say,  "  I  am  the  way,  the  light,  and  the  truth."  "  I  and  the 
Father  are  one,"  for  he  thought  God's  thoughts,  felt  God's  feelings, 
lived  God's  will.  I  never  said  that  man  would  outgrow  Christianity — 
never  thought  it  possible.  To  me  Christianity  is  perfect  love  to  man 
and  God.  Can  mankind  outgrow  this  ?  Not  even  when  they  become 


THEODORE    PARKER.  447 

angels.  I  think  St.  Paul  had  this  in  mind  when  he  says,  "  we  shall 
judge  angels,"  viz.  that  Christianity  is  perfect  truth  by  which  even 
the  higher  heings  are  judged.  If  future  revelations  of  truth  are  made, 
they  can  never  supersede  the  Christian  doctrine,  for  one  truth  is 
congenial  to  all  truth.  Therefore,  if  God  should  create  a  man  wiser, 
better,  holier  than  Jesus,  the  revelation  this  new  messenger  brought 
would  not  destroy  the  old. 

Whether  such  a  being  ever  will  be  created,  no  one  can  tell  but  He 
who  possesses  the  riddle  of  the  world.  The  counsels  of  God — no  one 
knows,  them.  I  think  it  becomes  Christians  to  leave  the  future  to  Him 
whose  it  is.  For  my  own  part,  I  cannot  conceive  of  a  being  more  good, 
and  beautiful,  and  holy,  and  true  than  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  His  words 
judge  the  world-  The  higher  we  think,  the  holier  we  live,  the  more  we 
find  in  them,  the  more  we  admire  and  love  in  him.  I  do  not  worship 
Christ,  but  I  love  him,  and  would  kiss  the  hem  of  his  garment.  As 
you  say,  he  is  still  "  the  Star  of  Promise."  He  has  not  come,  oh,  no! 
It  is  not  the  Christianity  of  Jesus,  that  most  of  even  pious  men  assent 
to.  It  is  still  in  the  world,  but  not  known  by  the  world.  The  wisest 
and  best  have  at  most  only  &tteiikought  what  he  foreknew.  In  love, 
and  religion,  and  truth,  I  think  no  one  has  come  up  to  him,  and  man 
cannot  go  beyond  the  truth,  as  you  so  well  say.  I  think  we  are  yet  to 
have  a  period  of  real  Christianity  on  the  earth ;  so  we  all  pray,  "  Thy 
kingdom  come,"  and  often  say,  "  How  long,  O  Lord  ?  "  What  you 
say  of  your  experience  of  one  of  Christ's  sayings  is  true  of  all  of  them. 
To-day  a  man  says  this  is  Christianity,  to-morrow  he  lives  it  out,  but 
then  he  finds  Christianity  is  still  above  him,  for  he  sees  a  new  meaning 
with  the  new  eyes  his  life  has  given  him.  "  Inasmuch  as  you  have 
done  it  unto  the  least  of  these,  you  have  done  it  unto  me."  What 
a  world  of  meaning  it  has  !  It  condemns  us  all.  I  thank  you,  my  dear 
lady,  for  the  confidence  you  have  placed  in  me,  and  rest  assured  that 
if  I  can  be  of  service  to  you  in  any  way,  it  will  give  me  the  greatest 
pleasure  to  do  so. 

I  remain  yours,  in  the  bonds  of  Christian  love. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  June  15,  1841. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER  PATIENCE, — I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  your  kind 
letter.  You  felt  moved,  as  you  said,  to  help  me ;  and  your  letter  did 
help  me,  and  that  not  a  little.  There  are  times  when  the  strongest  men 
need  help,  and  if  it  is  so  with  the  strong,  how  much  more  is  it  the  case 
with  me,  who  am  only  strong  when  I  am  weak !  Tour  letters  have  given 
me  encouragement  and  new  vigor.  It  is  delightful  to  find  one  who 
sympathizes  in  what  is  deepest  and  highest  in  your  own  mind,  who  is 
true  to  what  is  truest  in  your  own  heart.  In  this  world,  where  sinners 
are  so  much  more  common  than  saints,  it  is  very  refreshing  to  find  one 
who  is  pursuing  an  upward  path,  and  asking  God,  reverently,  for  more 
light  and  higher  truth. 

I  sent  you  "  Fenelon,"  because  I  thought  it  would  not  have  fallen  in 
your  way,  and  I  know  it  must  speak  to  your  heart  of  hearts.  A  religious 
book  is  always  understood  by  the  religious  heart,  and  by  that  alone. 


448  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE   O¥ 

The  common  people  counted  John  as  a  prophet,  and  seem  to  have 
heard  Jesus  gladly  ;  while  the  wise  men  of  earth  slew  both  the  prophet 
and  the  Savior  ;  so  it  always  is.  In  "  Penelon  "  you  will  find  some 
thing  that  you  will  not  like,  perhaps.  He  would  destroy  self,  not  merely 
bring  all  into  subjection  to  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  Life.  Did  you  ever 
read  Dr.  (Jhanning's  remarks  on  Fenelon  ?  If  you  never  did,  Mr.  Hall 
will  be  glad  to  lend  them  to  you  ;  and  you  will  find  many  good  words 
that  came  out  of  a  good  man's  heart,  and  have  already  reached  other 
good  hearts  and  made  them  better. 

You  must  take  great  delight,  I  think,  in  Mr.  Hall's  pulpit  services, 
and  his  conversation  also.  If  there  are  any  pious  ministers — and  /think 
there  are  many — he  is  one,  and  one  of  the  most  excellently  pious.  He 
does  not  make  the  kingdom  of  heaven  consist  in  meats  and  drinks,  but  in 
righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  believing.  He  has  an  unction  from 
the  Holy  One,  if  any  have  it  now-a-days.  I  rejoice,  my  dear  sister,  in 
the  strength  of  your  convictions  and*  the  brightness  of  your  inward 
life. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  July  5,  1841. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER  PATIENCE, — Tour  last  letter  gratified  me  much. 
That  alone  was  worth  all  the  hard  things  men  say  in  the  newspapers. 
But,  as  you  say,  they  cannot  hurt  any  one.  I  thank  you  most  heartily 
for  your  kind  sympathy.  It  makes  me  feel  strong.  It  is  delightful  to 
get  the  fellow-feeling  of  one  good  religious  heart  that  is  full  of  faith, 
and  tries  doctrines  by  feeling  of  them.  I  do  not  care  much  whether  a 
person  agrees  with  me  in  opinions  or  not ;  that  is  a  very  small  affair,  but 
if  we  feel  alike  about  the  highest  things,  we  can  walk  together ;  for  we 
are  agreed.  But  now  I  have  time  only  for  a  few  words.  I  shall  not  be 
at  home  next  Sunday ;  but  I  shall  the  Sunday  after  that,  when  both  my 
wife  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  indeed  to  give  you  the  right  hand  of  welcome, 
if  you  will  come,  as  you  propose. 

Very  affectionately, 

Tour  brother, 

THEO.  PARKER. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  September  11, 1844. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER  PATIENCE, — I  have  not  time  as  yet  for  a  long  letter, 
but  yet  for  a  few  words.  I  was  quite  sorry  to  see  you  so  sad  as  I  thought 
you  on  Sunday.  I  had  not  then  opportunity  to  speak  of  it,  but  you 
seemed  less  happy  than  I  was  wont  to  see  you.  Pray  tell  me  the  cause. 
Is  there  any  occasion  in  the  state  of  the  body  ?  any  reason  in  the  state 
of  the  mind  ?  or  has  any  trouble  you  do  not  outwardly  speak  of  be 
fallen  you  ?  I  know  that  you  used  to  welcome  angels,  whether  they  were 
dressed  in  wedding  robes  or  mourning  garments.  Then,  too,  you  say 
in  your  note — which,  like  all  yours,  came  in  the  right  time,  and  was 
most  heartily  welcomed — that  a  dispensation  of  silence  is  upon  you. 
Surely  not,  if  you  have  anything  to  say.  A  misfortune,  I  think  it 


THEODORE   PARKER.  449 

would  be  to  be  silent  when  you  were  certain  you  had  somewhat  to 
speak  of,  and  felt  certain  you  had  something  good  and  true.  Be  not 
faithless,  but  believing.  I  know  God  waiteth  to  be  revealed  to  all  such 
as  lie  low  in  His  power  and  reverently  look  to  Him.  But  He  expects 
them  also  to  reveal  what  is  granted  them,  not  hiding  their  wisdom  in 
its  own  beauty,  but  letting  their  light  shine.  Life  is  one  way,  speech 
is  another  form  of  our  revealing  to  men  what  the  Great  Father  reveals 
to  us ;  such  as  can  speak  the  truth  are  in  duty  bound  so  to  do,  as  well 
as  live  it.  After  I  have  got  over  the  hurry  of  business,  and  the  no  less 
urgent  hurry  of  friendships,  I  hope  you  will  come  up  and  pass  some 
days  with  us,  and  in  the  meantime  will  send  me  more  letters. 

Tours  faithfully, 

THEO.  PARKER. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  Feb.  7,  1845. 

MY  DEAB  PATIENCE, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and  seasonable 
letter.  It  came,  as  your  letters  always  came,  at  the  right  time.  I  have 
delayed  a  little  while  my  reply,  because  I  have  been  too  much  occu 
pied  to  find  time  to  write  any  letters  but  the  most  urgent :  so  you  will 
excuse  my  delay  with  the  same  charity  you  have  always  extended 
to  me. 

What  you  say  of  the  love  of  God  is  true  and  beautiful.  I  understand 
your  feelings  and  your  experience — at  least  I  think  so.  No  one  can 
dwell  too  deeply  in  the  love  of  God,  for  it  is  the  noblest  sentiment  we 
are  capable  of  feeling,  and  it  leads  out  to  a  love  of  truth,  goodness,  use 
fulness,  loveliness — for  these  are  among  the  modes  in  which  we  conceive 
of  God.  It  leads,  therefore — in  a  sound  and  healthy  state  of  mind — to 
a  life  full  of  truth,  goodness,  usefulness,  and  loveliness.  But  there  is 
always  a  danger  that  such  as  dwell  in  this  sentiment  should  lose  them 
selves  in  contemplation,  become  dreamers,  not  doers,  and  so  should  be 
abundant  in  the  blossoms  of  piety  and  yet  bring  no  fruit  to  perfection, 
so  that  when  the  Lord  comes,  seeking  fruit,  he  shall  find  leaves  only. 
Now  there  is  always  a  strong  temptation  for  a  mystical  man — and  I 
think  still  more  strongly  to  a  mystical  woman — to  dwell  amid  the  sen 
timental  flowers  of  religion,  charmed  with  their  loveliness,  and  half- 
bewilderedwith  their  perfume,  so  to  say, — a  danger  lest  common  sins  of 
the  times  should  not  be  thought  so  sinful  and  injurious  as  they  really 
are ;  and  lest  the  man  should  sit  down  patient  and  contented,  not  heed 
ing  his  brother's  condition,  nor  helping  him  out  of  the  ditch  into  which 
he  has  fallen.  At  a  certain  stage  of  religious  progress,  we  lose  sight  of 
the  human  element ;  we  look  perpetually  at  the  Divine  ;  we  think  God 
does  all ;  we  resign  ourselves  unconsciously  to  His  will,  our  own  will 
ceases  to  be.  Many  stop  there,  and  stop  in  outward  inaction ;  then 
they  become  one-sided,  and  at  length  dwindle.  But,  if  a  man  goes  on, 
he  catches  sight  of  the  human  again,  and  does  not  lose  the  Divine.  He 
serves  God  consciously,  and  knowingly  lives  in  obedience  to  the  Great 
One.  He  ceases  to  be  one-sided,  but  loves  God  with  all  his  under 
standing  and  reason,  as  well  as  with  all  his  heart.  Then,  too,  though 
he  loves  contemplation  none  the  less,  he  loves  action  all  the  more.  One 
30  * 


450  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

lives  like  a  worm  in  the  heart  of  an  apple,  fattens  and  grows,  and  then 
flies  off ;  the  other  not  only  grows  and  fattens,  but  comes  out  not  a 
moth,  but  a  bee,  and  visits  all  the  flowers  of  the  garden,  culling  from 
all  its  sweets,  carries  off  honey  for  other  bees,  and  builds  up  the 
comb — the  residence  of  future  bees  that  are  to  rejoice  in  his  labours. 
We  must  not  only  fly,  but,  as  we  mount  up,  we  must  take  others  on 
our  wings,  for  God  gave  one  more  strength  than  the  rest  only  that  he 
may  therewith  help  the  weak  !  I  hope  you  will  one  of  these  days  come 
and  see  us,  and  let  us  talk  with  you.  I  had  a  very  pleasant  conference 
with  Mr.  Hall,  the  other  day.  I  wish  there  were  more  such  men  in 
pulpits. 

Eemember  me  to  your  parents  and  sisters,  and  believe  me,  as  always, 
Truly  your  friend  and  brother, 

THEO.  PAEKEB. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  27  Aug.,  1845. 

Mr  DEAE  PATIENCE, — I  did  not  hear  of  your  affliction  until  Satur 
day,  or  I  should  have  come  up  to  see  you  instantly.  Now  I  am  obliged 
to  go  off  for  some  few  days,  so  I  fear  I  shall  not  see  you  till  next 
week.  I  hope  you  not  only  sustain  yourself  with  a  Christian  forti 
tude,  but  are  able  also  to  comfort  your  father,  whose  afflictions  are 
greater  than  your  own  ;  and  your  sisters,  who  naturally  will  look  to  you 
for  consolation  in  this  hour  of  sorrow.  I  know  you  will'be  calm,  resigned, 
lying  low  in  the  hand  of  God.  I  know  you  will  know  that  all  is  for 
the  greatest  good  of  her  that  is  gone  and  those  she  has  left  behind.  I 
hope  you  will  be  able  to  cheer  hearts  which  are  sadder  than  your  own. 
They  will  see  more  than  patience  in  you,  I  doubt  not,  even  resignation, 
cheerful  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  the  Great  One  who  always  is  doing 
us  good,  not  less  when  he  causes  us  to  weep  than  when  he  makes  us  smile. 
I  beg  you  to  assure  your  father  of  my  sincere  sympathy  for  him  in  this 
loss,  and  my  hope  that  he  will  find  comfort  and  peace.  Let  your  sisters 
see  and  feel  that  you  are  superior  to  affliction,  and  you  will 'gradually 
take  away  the  grief  of  this  sudden  wound,  and  at  last  heal  it.  I  have 
time  to  say  no  more,  for  I  go  presently ;  so  good-bye. 

Sincerely, 

THEO.  PAEKEE. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  July  10,  1847. 

MY  DEAE  PATIENCE, — I  have  not  had  a  convenient  opportunity  to 
write  you  before.  In  your  note  you  do  not  give  me  very  distinctly  to 
understand  why  you  expect  to  lose  the  love  and  affection  of  your 
friend.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  may  "  study  the  laws  of  the  spirit," 
and  live  the  life  of  the  spirit,  without  losing  the  affection  or  even  the  sym 
pathy  of  your  friends.  The  laws  of  the  spirit  may  be  as  well  studied 
in  one  place  or  one  sphere  of  life  as  another.  Living  itself  affords 
the  material  of  that  study,  and  the  study  consists  in  reflecting  on  the 
material  thus  given.  But  perhaps  you  are  looking  for  some  new  form 


THEODORE   PARKER.  451 

of  activity  in  which  to  work— I  am  no  judge  of  that.  You  must  de 
termine  that  for  yourself ;  but  I  hope  you  will  not  mistake  any  tran 
sient  impulse  which  has  its  origin  in  some  physical  derangement  for  a 
serious  monition  of  a  lasting  duty.  I  know  you  will  be  faithful  to  your 
own  convictions  of  duty — my  only  fear  is  that  you  should  decide  with 
out  due  deliberation,  and  without  a  complete  understanding  of  your 
own  case.  Then,  of  course,  the  decision  will  be  incorrect,  and  the  re 
sult  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  Would  not  it  be  well  to  state  dis 
tinctly  to  yourself  what  it  is  that  you  wish  to  do,  and  how  you  wish  to 
do  it ;  then  you  will  know  exactly  what  you  are  about,  and  not  "  fight 
as  one  that  beateth  the  air."  I  know  you  will  be  true  to  yourself,  but 
only  fear  lest  you  should  not  always  consult  your  permanent  self,  but 
only  a  fleeting  emotion  of  the  day  or  the  night.  If  I  can  ever  be  of 
any  help  to  you,  you  know  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to  be  so ;  so, 
dear  Patience,  farewell. 

T.  P. 

FROM    MISS    PATIENCE    FORD.* 

Dover,  October  14,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  FBIEND, — Moved  by  an  inward  impulse  I  do  not  resist, 
I  take  my  pen  to  address  you.  It  is  very  long  since  there  has  been 
any  communication  between  us,  yet  the  associations  of  the  past  come 
thronging  upon  my  memory  and  filling  my  soul  with  grateful  love. 
Perhaps  we  may  now  meet  again  upon  paper,  as  there  seems  an 
insuperable  barrier  interposed  to  our  meeting  elsewhere.  I  must 
speak  to  you  from  the  inner  temple  of  my  being,  because  it  is  only 
from  thence  I  can  speak,  and  it  is  only  of  that  which  you  would  care 
to  hear.  It  is  a  temple  of  truth  and  purity,  erected  for  the  abode  of 
our  Father.  Grod  himself  superintended  the  construction,  and  polished 
and  fitted  each  stone  before  it  was  brought  hither,  so  that  "  there  was 
no  noise  of  hammer,  or  axe,  or  any  tool  of  iron,  heard  in  this  house 
while  it  was  in  building."  But,  oh!  the  rubbish  that  had  to  be  removed 
ere  the  foundation  of  this  temple  could  be  laid  strong  and  enduring ! 
How  much  which  I  thought  was  pure  gold  had  to  be  cast  aside  as  base 
and  useless  metal,  so  much  so  that  it  seemed  at  times  there  would  be 
nothing  left  upon  which  to  base  a  superstructure.  But  the  wise 
Master-builder  knew  better  than  I  did ;  and  as  I  earnestly  besought 
Him  to  permit  nothing  but  genuine  material  to  remain,  nought  but 
would  bear  any  test  of  time  or  change,  He  kindly  bore  away  that 
which  I  had  previously  erected  with  much  pains  and  care,  and  showed 
me  it  was  of  a  crumbling  nature,  and  liable  to  be  swept  away  by  the 
floods  of  time  and  decay.  But  what  is  more  than  all,  He  has  promised 
to  take  up  his  abode  in  this  temple  He  helped  me  to  rear  for  his 
worship,  so  that  now  I  have  nothing  more  to  ask  of  Him.  I  have  but 
to  put  forth  every  faculty  and  power  he  has  bestowed  upon  me,  with 
the  full  assurance  that  I  am  going  forward  in  harmony  with  the  great 
creative  spirit;  and,  oh!  He  brought  me,  when  He  came  to  take 
possession  of  this  inner  temple,  the  key  to  the  outward  universe,  by 

*  This  beautiful  spirit  passed  away  in  the  summer  of  1863. 


452  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

means  of  which  I  can  penetrate  into  the  very  centre  and  essence  of 
things,  and  discern  of  what  they  are  composed.  And  He  also  brought 
other  rich  and  costly  gifts,  the  nature  of  which  it  were  not  possible 
for  human  language  to  describe. 


TO    PETER   ROBERTSON,    STONEHAVEN,    NEAR   ABERDEEN, 
SCOTLAND. 

Boston,  April  16,  1849. 

MY  DEAB  SIB, — I  thank  you  for  the  very  kind  and  affectionate  note 
you  sent  me  on  the  10th  of  the  last  month.  It  reached  me  by  the  last 
mail-boat  from  England,  and  is  very  welcome.  Such  a  letter  shows  me 
that  my  words  have  not  fallen  idle,  nor  been  spoken  wholly  in  vain.  I 
have  lamented  from  my  childhood  that  such  a  subject  as  religion  should 
be  involved  in  such  a  cloud  of  superstition.  But  I  thank  God  that  we 
live  in  an  age  when  many  men,  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  are  ceasing  to 
fear  God,  and  learning  to  love  him.  The  old  theologies  are  fast  going 
to  pieces ;  new  systems  are  taking  their  place,  which  rest  on  a  truer 
idea  of  God,  and  a  juster  appreciation  of  the  nature  of  man.  It  is  a 
great  and  glorious  age  we  live  in.  I  trust  that  Christianity  has  great 
triumphs  in  store  for  mankind;  for  Christianity  is  the  just  and  complete 
action  of  human  nature.  "We  shall  do  a  little  towards  this  good  work 
in  America.  You  in  England  are  contributing  to  the  same  end ;  so  is 
all  the  world.  To  me  it  is  delightful  to  think  that  every  truth  is 
eternal,  and  each  error  is  local  and  temporary.  The  Christian  nations 
are  gradually  learning  that  there  is  but  one  religion — that  is,  in  its 
internal  form,  piety,  the  love  of  God ;  in  its  practical  development  and 
manifestation,  goodness,  the  love  of  man.  Christianity  is  free  good 
ness,  free  piety,  connected  with  free  thought.  When  nations  believe 
this,  as  now  a  few  individuals  believe  it,  what  a  beautiful  world  we  shall 
have — what  societies  of  men  and  of  nations !  I  love  to  look  on  the 
great  temples  which  once  were  built  in  the  name  of  religion,  on  the 
priesthoods  and  ecclesiastical  institutions  it  has  founded.  In  them  I 
see  signs  of  the  power  of  religion ;  and  I  look  forward  to  the  time 
when  religion  will  be  a  yet  greater  power,  and  will  build  up,  not 
theocracies,  but  democracies — when  the  government  is  of  all,  for  all, 
and  by  all ;  when  we  shall  build  up  institutions  to  educate  all  men,  so 
that  we  shall  have  a  Church  without  bigotry,  a  State  without  despotism 
of  the  few  over  the  many  or  the  many  over  the  few,  and  a  society  with 
no  want,  no  ignorance,  no  crime.  It  seems  to  me  that  our  human 
nature  demands  this ;  that  God  designs  it— and  that  it  must  come,  not 
in  our  day,  but  far  hence.  We  can  do  something  to  help  it  forward. 
Wealth  is  power,  wisdom  is  power,  religion  is  power  ;  and  when  man 
kind  have  all  these  three,  what  great  results  shall  we  not  accomplish  ? 
It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  each  one  of  us  may  do  a  little  towards  a 
work  so  glorious. 

I  will  send  you  a  few  sermons  which  I  have  published  as  soon  as  an 
opportunity  offers.  I  have  long  been  intending  to  print  a  volume  of 
sermons  relating  to  subjects  like  that  which  you  name,  and  hope  to  do 


THEODORE   PARKER.  453 

so  in  the  coming  season.     Hitherto  I  have  had  so  many  things  to 
attend  to  that  it  has  been  impossible.     It  will  give  me  pleasure  to  hear 
from  you  at  all  times,  and  to  be  useful  to  you  in  any  way. 
Believe  me  faithfully  your  friend, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

Rakhal  Das  Haldar,  an  intelligent  Brahmin,  now  a  Uni 
tarian  missionary  in  India,  after  expressing  private  gratitude  for 
the  awakening  of  his  religious  feeling,  writes, — 

It  could  not  be  otherwise  than  pleasing  to  you  to  know  that  the 
better  portion  of  the  community  of  this  country  take  an  unusual 
interest  in  perusing  your  theological  works. 

I  ought  to  mention  here  a  fact,  that  whenever  there  happens  a  con 
versation  among  my  educated  countrymen  about  religious  compositions, 
they  unanimously  point  out  those  of  yours  as  models.  Dr.  Channing's 
sermons  are  undoubtedly  excellent ;  but  they  want  that  energy,  that 
manly  boldness,  that  brilliancy  of  thought  which  characterize  your 
sermons. 

TO   GEORGE   ADAMS. 

West  Roxbury,  June  24,  1842. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  your  letter  interested  and  encouraged  me. 
I  know  there  are  many  whom  the  Church  and  the  ministers  drive  into 
infidelity,  by  their  bigotry  and  contempt  for  reason.  If  I  can  ever  do 
anything  to  remove  the  cloud  of  darkness  which  men  have  collected 
about  the  temple  of  truth  I  shall  rejoice ;  still  more  if  I  can  help  any 
one  to  see  the  real  beauty  of  true  religion.  I  feel  it  is  a  great  work 
which  I  have  undertaken.  I  know  that,  so  far  as  the  ministers  are  con 
cerned,  I  am  alone,  all  alone.  But  I  have  no  ambition  to  gratify,  and 
so  neither  fear  the  disgrace  nor  count  the  applause  which  they  can  give 
me.  If  I  can  speak  the  truth  plainly  to  honest  and  earnest  men,  it  is 
all  I  ask ;  the  result  is  with  the  God  of  all,  and  you  and  I  have  no 
cause  to  fear.  I  have  received  the  ready  sympathy  of  intelligent  and 
religious  laymen,  and  confess  that  it  makes  me  feel  strong,  for  most 
men  have  moments  of  depression,  when  a  kind  word  is  like  rain  to  the 
parched  grass. 


FROM  JAMES   T.    DICKINSON. 

Middlefield,  Conn.,  May  21,  1854. 

DEAB  SIB, — I  give  below  an  extract  from  the  private  journal  of  a 
congregational  minister,  which,  as  it  relates  to  one  of  your  books,  may 
interest  you.  The  writer  is  in  "  good  and  regular  standing  "  among 
the  orthodox ;  was  formerly  for  several  years  a  missionary  to  the  Chi 
nese,  is  now  an  invalid,  but  preaches  and  lectures  occasionally.  He  is 
thought,  I  believe,  to  be  rather  peculiar  in  his  notions — somewhat  rash 
and  radical,  yet,  on  some  points,  conservative  enough.  Some  have 
called  him  a  Swedenborgian,  and  one  man  was  known  to  whisper  it 


454  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

about  that  he  was  a  "  kind  of  Atheist."  A  few  weeks  since  he  preached 
a  sermon  which  contained  a  number  of  startling  sentences,  one  of 
which,  as  a  specimen,  I  quote  : — "  Deliver  us  from  that  religion  which 
claims  to  have  the  love  of  God,  whom  it  hath  not  seen,  while  withhold 
ing  love  from  the  brother,  however  dark  in  color  or  weak  in  faith,  whom 
it  hath  seen ;  which  communes  with  the  orthodox  slaveholder,  but  casts 
out  as  unholy  Dr.  Channing  and  Theodore  Parker,  heterodox  in  creed, 
but  so  beautifully,  bravely  orthodox  in  life." 

Now  for  the  extract : — 

"  May  21st,  1854. — During  the  past  week  I  have  read  Theodore 
Parker's  '  Discourse  of  Matters  Pertaining  to  Eeligion.'  A  great  and 
good  book,  notwithstanding  its  want  of  orthodoxy.  It  is  a  strong  help 
to  me  to  find  a  man  standing  on  the  extreme  verge  of  liberal  theology, 
holding  so  firmly,  so  tenaciously,  the  one  true  religion,  love  to  God  and 
man.  No  doubt  this  is  the  absolute  religion,  and  Mr.  P.  deserves  the 
thanks  of  the  world  for  setting  it  forth  so  clearly  and  beautifully. 
"When  will  men  learn  that  Christianity  consists  not  in  saying,  *  Lor*d, 
Lord,'  but  in  '  doing  the  Father's  will ' ;  not  in  believing  a  creed,  but 
in  living  a  true  life ;  not  in  opinion,  but  in  character ;  not  in  dogma, 
but  in  duty ;  not  in  understanding  the  ontology  of  Christ,  but  in  pos 
sessing  his  spirit  ?  When  will  men  see  the  broad  distinction  between 
theology  and  religion,  between  formula  and  righteousness  ?  Though  I 
dare  not  adopt  a  theology  so  extreme,  so  different  from  that  so  long 
and  generally  received,  yet  I  rejoice  that  others  can  do  so  without  peril 
to  our  holy  religion.  I  still  adhere  to  the  idea  that  Christ  is  God, 
'  Grod  in  Christ,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself '  ;  but  it  gives  me 
great  joy  to  find  that  a  man  can  be  an  earnest  and  noble  Christian, 
while  believing  Christ  was  only  a  man.  But  remembering  Mr.  P.'s 
excellent  philosophy,  that  God  is  always  present  and  helping  in  all  our 
goodness,  does  it  not  follow  that  there  is  in  Christ  so  much  of  God  that, 
practically,  we  come  to  nearly  the  same  point  ?  If  T.  P.  were  but  the 
Pantheist  he  is  said  to  be,  could  he  help  asserting  the  divinity  of  Christ  ? 
Pantheist !  Who,  then,  is  a  theist  ?  who  a  believer  in  individual  re 
sponsibility  in  sin,  if  not  the  man  whose  energy  of  conscience  and 
will  and  word  can  send  forth  living,  burning  thoughts  that  pervade  the 
continents,  making  Everett  and  Cass  and  Douglass  turn  pale,  Pierce 
tremble  on  his  four  years'  throne,  breathing  into  the  nation  heart  and 
hope  ?  Noble  is  the  spiritual  philosophy  of  T.  P.,  which  brings  God 
back  into  the  worlds  of  matter  and  mind,  from  which  materialism  and 
a  half-atheistic  theology  had  almost  banished  him,  making  him  'im 
manent,'  living,  loving,  in  all  nature  and  all  spirit.  Baptism,  the 
Lord's  Supper,  the  Church,  the  Bible,  the  possible  inspiration  of  all 
men,  creeds,  theologies,  hold  their  proper  place  in  this  remarkable 
book,  though  I  should  sometimes  prefer  language  less  severe  and  im 
patient.  But  we  must  pardon  much  to  the  spirit  of  liberty.  The 
Luthers  are  not  mealy-mouthed.  Against  creeds,  not  even  T.  P.  can 
invent  words  too  severe.  Though  wrong,  it  is  natural  enough  in  the 
orthodox  to  excommunicate  such  a  man  from  Christianity,  but  in  the 
Unitarians  it  is  weak  and  wicked." 

Sincerely  and  respectfully  yours, 

JAMES  T.  DICKINSON. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  455 

TO  JAMES  T.  DICKINSON. 

Boston,  25th  May,  1854. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness  in  sending  me  the  opin 
ion  of  your  friend,  so  highly  commendatory  as  it  is.  I  wish  I  was 
worthy  of  half  the  praise  he  bestows  upon  me.  But  it  is  a  strange  state 
of  things  which  now  prevails.  Mr.  Webster  denied  that  there  was  any 
law  higher  than  an  Act  of  Congress.  When  he  stood  and  looked  at 
the  magnificent  mountains  of  Virginia,  he  scoffed  at  the  thought  of  a 
higher  law  than  their  tops.  And  when  he  came  to  die,  more  than  a 
hundred  and  fifty  clergymen  preached  and  printed  sermons  eulogizing 
him  as  a  great  Christian.  The  evidence  was :— he  went  to  meeting, 
knew  Watts'  hymns,  and  in  the  Girard  will  case  declaimed  in  behalf 
of  the  Christian  religion.  But  on  the  other  side,  all  the  philanthropists 
of  the  age  in  America  are  denounced  as  heretical,  unchristian,  often  as 
irreligious,  and  atheistic.  Not  to  love  your  brother  whom  you  have 
seen  seems  to  be  a  sign  of  love  of  God  whom  you  have  not  seen. 

The  great  difficulty  is,  we  have  not  an  idea  of  God  at  all  adequate  to 
the  wants  of  mankind ;  the  popular  theology  does  not  know  the  God 
of  infinite  perfection.  It  is  a  partial  and  exceedingly  imperfect  God  that 
all  the  churches  worship.  Hence  they  have  a  form  of  religion  which  is 
not  adequate  for  the  purposes  of  science,  of  politics,  of  philanthropy, 
or  of  piety.  So  the  philosophers,  the  politicians,  the  philanthropists, 
and  the  men  of  solid  piety  turn  off  from  the  popular  forms  of  religion. 
The  politicians  comply  with  it — it  is  a  part  of  their  policy,  and  means 
as  much  as  their  praise  of  democratic  institutions,  which  they  subvert 
while  they  profess  to  honor  ;  but  this  is  not  to  last  long. 

TO  J.  P.  HAZARD. 

I  hope  good  will  come  from  these  spiritual  manifestations.  Indeed, 
I  see  two  special  good  things  which  are  getting  accomplished  by  them, 
viz. ;  .1.  some  men  who  had  little  satisfaction  in  any  form  of  religion, 
who  were  disgusted  with  the  foolishness  taught  as  "  divine  wisdom," 
have  found  in  these  phenomena  something  higher  than  the  mere  material 
elements  connected  with  them  ;  and  they  rise  up  thence  to  nobler  forms 
of  internal  life,  to  satisfactory  modes  of  religion.  Such  as  did  not  be 
lieve  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul  find  a  "  proof"  of  it  here.  2.  These 
phenomena  lead  men  to  think  about  the  miracles  of  the  Bible,  to  disbe 
lieve  and  reject  them.  Thus  the  old  theology  of  the  dark  ages  is  rap 
idly  melting  to  pieces. 

No  doubt  other  good  results  will  follow.  But  I  must  confess  that 
as  yet  I  have  seen  nothing  which  leads  me  to  believe  in  the  spiritual 
origin  of  these  strange  things.  I  see  nothing  but  the  action  of  faculties 
not  much  studied  hitherto,  and  but  little  understood.  Much  deceit  also  I 
find — deceit  and  fraud.  But  the  real  genuine  cases  only  report  to  me 
the  action  of  human  faculties  not  as  yet  well  understood. 

TO  WM.  L.  AND  WENDELL  P.  GARRISON. 

If  you  have  a  vehement  desire  for  a  good  literary  culture,  and 
if  a  college  were  the  only  place  which  could  afford  it,  I  should  say,  by 


456  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

all  means  go  there  and  get  the  coveted  pearl  in  spite  of  the  age  of 
twenty-two.  But  the  case  is  not  exactly  such  ;  a  college  is  by  no  means 
the  only  place  to  furnish  this  culture,  nor  is  it  at  all  the  best  place  to 
help  a  man  of  your  years  and  experience  of  life.  The  discipline  of  a 
college  is  designed  for  boys,  not  for  grown  men ;  so  the  studies  are 
adapted  to  the  boyish  mind,  not  the  manly.  What  you  want,  I  take  it, 
is  (1)  a  vigorous  development  of  all  your  intellectual  faculties,  and  (2) 
competent  literary  and  scientific  information.  Both  of  these  you  may 
obtain  without  going  to  college,  and  without  even  quitting  the  regular 
methodical  business  at  the  bank.  Here  is  what  I  would  suggest  for 
your  consideration ;  to  find  some  good,  well  educated  man  to  guide  you 
a  little  in  these  particulars,  in  studying  such  works  of  science,  physical 
and  metaphysical,  as  you  and  he  may  think  advisable,  in  studying  such 
foreign  languages  as  you  may  need — perhaps  French  will  be  sufficient, 
— and  in  studying  the  history  of  mankind  in  various  countries  and  in 
all  ages.  Some  well  educated  friend  would  be  needed  simply  to  give 
you  the  list  of  books,  to  tell  you  the  order  you  shall  follow  in  reading 
them,  and  to  point  out  the  right  method  of  study.  Should  you  pursue 
this  method,  I  think  in  four  years,  by  using  only  your  spare  time,  you 
would  secure  more  development  and  more  information  than  you  would 
in  the  six  years  necessary  to  fit  you  for  college  and  take  you  through. 

Now  a  word  to  the  other  brother.  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  Students' 
Temperance  Society.  It  was  more  needed  than  in  any  other  part  of  N. 
E.  Your  class  seems  fortunate  in  having  a  little  company  of  noble 
minded  young  men  in  it.  I  put  you  among  their  leaders.  It  is  a  great 
thing  for  any  class  to  have  even  but  a  few  such  in  it.  *  *  *  Litera 
ture  is  a  good  staff,  but  a  poor  crutch,  and  reform  makes  but  a  poor 
profession  for  any  one.  The  public  is  naturally  jealous  of  a  professed 
reformer,  and  looks  upon  him  much  as  it  does  on  a  common  scold  ;  no 
profession  probably  has  more  and  more  terrible  temptations.  *  *  * 
I  regret  that  so  much  of  our  best  talent  is  of  necessity  forced  to  occupy 
itself  with  this  matter  of  slavery,  and  to  take  up  the  time  of  the  peo 
ple  with  discussion  of  what  our  grandfathers  thought  they  had  settled 
forever,  while  the  great  work  of  organizing  society,  so  that  there  shall 
be  no  idleness  and  no  want,  no  involuntary  celibacy  and  no  prostitution, 
no  drunkenness  nor  crime,  remains  almost  untouched.  *  *  *  * 

I  hope  your  friend  Hallo  well  justifies  the  high  hopes  formed  of  him, 
both  in  talent  and  character.  Russell  and  Shaw,  in  the  class  before 
you,  I  hope  will  do  no  discredit  to  their  fathers  and  mothers — old 
friends  of  mine.  Spalding  I  am  sure  of.  *  *  *  * 

I  should  like  to  step  into  the  A.  S.  Rooms  and  see  Mr.  Wallcut  and 
his  green  bag,  Sam  May  writing  letters,' and  H.  C.  Wright  covering 
the  desk  with  one  of  his  hands. 

TO  THOMAS  G.  BARNARD,  NORWAY,  MAINE. 

Boston,  March  30,  1853. 

DEAR  SIR, — I  thank  you  for  your  interesting  and  welcome  letter, 
which  I  have  just  read.  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  know  of  such 
men  as  yourself,  bred  by  deeply  religious  parents  in  the  old  forms  of 


THEODORE   PARKER.  457 

religion,  yet  coming  out  of  bigotry  into  freedom  with  a  continual 
increase  of  piety  and  faith  in  God.  I  know  some  men  who  cast  off 
the  old  forms  of  theology  and  of  church  service  for  the  sake  of  getting 
rid  of  the  restraints  of  religion.  I  always  love  to  find  one  who  grows 
in  morality  as  he  advances  also  in  intellectual  freedom. 

I  know  many  persons  whose  history  is  the  same  as  yours.  The 
Methodist  Church  does  a  great  deal  of  good  ;  the  Methodist  minister, — 
poor,  badly  educated,  often  quite  ignorant, — goes  amongst  men  more 
ignorant  than  he,  and  rouses  up  the  religious  spirit  in  their  souls,  and 
quickens  them  with  new  life.  How  many  thousands  of  men  there  are 
who  owe  their  earthly  salvation  to  the  labors  of  some  modest  minister 
of  that  persuasion  ?  I  have  great  respect  for  them ;  but,  alas  !  they 
find  men  in  fetters ;  they  make  men  fear ;  they  drive  by  terror  while 
they  ought  to  draw  by  love;  they  make  too  much  of  a  separation 
between  life  and  religion.  Their  idea  of  God  is  dark  and  sad,  so  are 
their  notions  of  the  next  life.  But  when  one  comes  to  the  conviction 
that  God  is  infinite, — I  mean  perfectly  powerful,  perfectly  wise,  just, 
loving  and  faithful  to  himself, — then  the  great  difficulty  is  over:  you  do 
not  fear  God,  you  love  him  ;  you  will  not  seek  to  shun  his  laws,  but  to 
keep  them,  and  if  you  fall  away  sometimes  through  the  strength  of 
temptation  and  the  weakness  of  your  character,  you  feel  mortified, 
ashamed,  and  penitent,  and  come  back  full  of  vigor  and  resolution 
anew,  and  go  on  your  way  rejoicing. 

I  am  sorry  I  did  not  know  you  while  you  were  here  in  Boston,  and 
hope  you  will  continue  to  grow  in  all  religious  and  manly  excellence. 

Truly  yours, 

THEO.  PABKEB. 

TO   A   FRIEND,   A  PHYSICIAN   IN   UTICA,   NEW  YORK. 

October  2,  1848. 

I  thank  you  for  the  kind  things  which  you  say  of  my  writings.  I 
sincerely  hope  they  may  do  a  little  to  direct  the  attention  of  men  to 
the  great  realities  of  religion,  and  help  make  the  earth  the  paradise 
which  God  designed.  I  see  most  hopeful  signs.  Here  in  Boston  and 
its  vicinity  there  has  been  a  great  change  for  the  better  in  half  a  dozen 
years.  Men  do  not  insist  so  much  as  formerly  on  what  is  reckoned 
miraculous  in  Christianity.  The  more  I  study  the  nature  of  man  and 
the  history  of  his  progress,  the  more  I  am  filled  with  admiration  at  the 
genius  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  with  love  for  his  beautiful  character 
and  life.  He  is  the  greatest  achievement  of  the  human  races,  and 
Christianity  the  greatest  idea  which  mankind  has  thought  out  as  yet ; 
for,  take  the  results  of  Christianity  into  account,  it  is  the  greatest  fact 
in  human  history. 

But  I  look  on  all  that  has  gone  before  as  only  the  spring-time  of 
religion,  the  few  warm  days  in  March  which  melt  the  snow  off  the  most 
southern  slopes  of  the  hills,  and  only  promise  violets  and  roses.  The 
real  summer  and  autumn  of  Christianity,  I  think,  are  a  good  way  off. 
But  they  are  certain,  and  every  good  man,  every  good  deed,  every  good 
thought  or  feeling,  helps  forward  the  time. 

I  am  glad  you  like  what  I  said  of  Mr.  Adams.  I  certainly  studied 
the  matter  carefully,  and  read  every  line  he  ever  published  which 


458  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

I  could  find,  and  looked  at  every  vote  he  cast.  Then  I  had  several 
times  met  the  old  man,  and  conversed  with  him. 

As  you  say,  he  had  more  justice  than  kindness,  and  kindness  is  the 
more  popular  virtue.  But  justice  is  far  the  more  excellent.  Some  men. 
here  rate  him  higher  than  I  do.  But  my  article  on  him  has  met  with 
more  favour  than  anything  else  I  ever  wrote.  It  has  been  circulated 
very  widely,  and  I  hope  will  do  some  good  work. 

When  a  public  man  dies,  we  ought  to  take  warning  from  his  faults 
and  be  guided  by  his  merits.  It  seems  an  ungrateful  work  to  hunt  the 
one  dead  fly  out  of  the  whole  pot  of  ointment ;  but  if  all  else  be  fra 
grant,  it  is  profitable  to  detect  the  cause  of  the  offence  which  arises 
from  the  one  ill  thing. 

TO   MISS   COBBE,    ENGLAND. 

May  5,  1848. 

MY  DEAB  FBIEND, — Your  letter  of  April  2nd  gave  me  great  delight. 
I  rejoice  exceedingly  at  being  able  to  smoothe  the  difficulties  away  which 
have  been  thrown  in  the  way  of  religion,  and  so  your  kind  letter  warmed 
my  heart  anew  with  the  thought  that  I  had  actually  helped  one  fellow- 
mortal — one,  too,  whom  perhaps  I  shall  never  see.  Your  history  lends 
additional  interest  to  it  all.  I  know  how  you  must  have  suffered  under 
that  bewildering  orthodox  theology  which  you  were  taught  to  accept 
instead  of  religion,  and  which  you  could  not  receive,  still  less  be  satis 
fied  with.  We  have  the  same  orthodoxy  here  in  America,  only,  as  we 
think,  a  little  more — as  everything  is  a  little  more — intense  on  our  side 
of  the  water. 

I  confess  to  a  strong  love  of  that  good  and  true  man,  Blanco  White. 
His  "  Memoirs "  have  brought  much  comfort  to  many  a  man's  and 
woman's  heart  in  America.  What  I  love  most  is  the  entire  truthful 
ness  of  the  man,  and  his  entire  trustfulness.  He  felt  and  he  knew  the 
goodness  of  God,  and,  loving  Him,  forgot  all  fear. 

You  ask  me  if  Jesus  believed  in  eternal  punishments,  &c.,  or  why  I 
call  myself  a  Christian  if  he  did.  I  don't  believe  he  did;  I  see  not  how 
he  could.  I  doubt  that  even  Paul  believed  it.  Why,  Jesus  is  teaching 
that  God  loves  all  men,  the  sinner  as  well  as  the  saint.  I  know  there 
are  many  passages,  some  parables,  which  plainly  teach  this  odious  doc 
trine.  Still,  I  don't  believe  Jesus  taught  it,  though  it  was  easy  for  a  Jew 
to  misunderstand  his  words,  and  long  after  his  death  relate  such  things 
of  him.  I  cannot  ascribe  a  very  high  historical  value  to  the  Gospels; 
they  rather  indicate  its  facts  than  tell  it.  I  call  myself  a  Christian 
because  I  believe  Jesus  taught  absolute  religion,  goodness,  and  piety ; 
free  goodness,  free  piety,  free  thought.  He  was,  in  some  things,  fettered 
by  the  follies  of  his  nation  and  age,  but  did  men  such  a  service  by  set 
ting  before  them  the  true  method  of  religion,  that  I  love  to  call  myself 
a  Christian  out  of  gratitude,  but  I  would  not  think  ill  of  another  who 
disliked  the  name ;  nay,  I  doubt  if  Jesus  himself  would  recommend  it. 
I  have  written  you  a  longer  letter  than  I  thought  I  should  at  first.  If 
I  can  be  of  service  to  you  in  any  way,  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  do  so, 
and  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  from  you  when  it  is  agreeable  to  you 
to  write.  Allow  me  to  subscribe  myself, 

Sincerely  your  friend, 

THEO.  PABKEE. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  459 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  June  5,  1855. 

MY  DEAB  Miss  COBBE, — Your  kind  letter  came  to  hand  in  due 
time,  and  the  book  followed  it,  reaching  me  a  few  weeks  ago.  I  did 
not  go  to  bed  till  I  saw  through  its  whole.*  The  next  day  I  gave  it 
a  more  careful  study.  Let  me  say  I  admire  the  work  throughout ;  the 
plan,  the  execution,  and  all  the  details.  It  is  a  noble  work,  in  many 
points  reminding  me  of  some  of  the  best  things  in  Leibnitz,  in  others 
coming  close  upon  Milton  in  its  tone  and  language.  Your  learning 
also  surprises  me.  I  am  making  efforts  to  have  it  reprinted  here,  for 
it  is  much  needed  to  counteract  the  sensationalism  of  the  Locke  school, 
who  still  occupy  most  of  the  chairs  of  philosophy  in  New  England. 
It  will  do  good  service  among  our  young  men  and  women.  If  I  suc 
ceed,  you  shall  have  a  copy  as  soon  as  possible,  only  the  depressed 
state  of  the  money  market  makes  my  success  doubtful.  In  your  note 
you*  seem  to  think  you  and  I  might  differ  as  to  the  use  of  experiment 
in  morals.  This  is  my  notion :  moral  experiment  furnishes  new  facts 
of  moral  consciousness,  which  else  we  should  not  acquire  so  soon — per 
haps  never.  Still  the  ultimate  appeal  is  to  the  moral  element  within  us. 
By  experiment  alone  we  can  never  learn  what  is  (scientifically)  just 
— only  what  is  (empirically)  convenient  in  a  special  case.  I  hope 
soon  to  have  the  other  part,  the  "  practice  of  morals." 

Be  pleased  to  accept  a  copy  of  a  new  book  of  mine,  though  made 
up  of  old  matter,  and  believe  me  respectfully  and  sincerely  yours, 

THEO.  PABKER. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  December  20th,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  COBBE, — "When  your  book  first  reached  me  I  sub 
mitted  it  to  my  friends,  Messrs.  Little  and  Brown,  who  said  they  would 
take  it  up  at  once  on  my  recommendation,  were  it  not  for  the  deranged 
condition  of  the  country  at  that  time,  they  having  much  capital  at  risk, 
and  getting  but  slow  sales.  I  tried  another  house,  and  was  determined 
it  should  be  published  if  I  took  the  risk  myself  and  gave  away  the 
edition,  for  I  thought  it  so  valuable.  The  other  house,  Messrs.  Phillips 
and  Samson,  delayed  a  long  time,  their  reader  not  liking  to  take  the 
responsibility  of  deciding  on  a  book  which  lay  outside  of  his  lines  of 
knowledge.  So  he  delegated  the  matter  to  a  minister  of  the  Unitarian 
denomination,  a  man  of  nice  scholarship  and  fine  character,  though 
quite  conservative.  In  the  meantime  I  was  busy  making  ready  for 
publication  the  "  Defence,"  which  I  send  you  with  this  letter.  But  a 
few  days  since  the  reader  sent  me  the  note  from  Mr.  Hale,  which  I 
enclose,  so  the  book  will  appear  'ere  long.  To  make  it  as  perfect  as 
possible,  I  will  beg  you  to  send  me  another  copy,  with  such  corrections, 
emendations  and  additions,  as  you  see  fit  to  make.  The  mistake  of 
those  writers  who  copied  the  strange  errors  of  Mosheim,  were  first 
pointed  out  to  me  by  an  acute  Catholic  lawyer  of  this  city,  who  wrote 
a  lecture  on  "  Eobertson's  View  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  detecting  that 

*  The  -volume  written  by  Miss  Cobbe,  entitled  "Theory  of  Intuitive  Morals." 


460  LIFE   AND   CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

and  other  errors ;  as  I  looked  into  the  matter  I  found  the  whole  pas 
sage  of  St.  Eligius  was  given  in  Schrockh,  Kirchengesch,  b.  xix.  p. 
438,  and  in  Gieseler  K.  G.  b.  i.  123.  You  refer  to  Sharrolu's  book 
&rofl«riff  $w.  I  had  never  read  a  word  of  the  man,  but  in  a  few  days 
received  his  De  Officiis  secundum  Jus  Naturae,  (Gotha3,  1667,  1  vol. 
18mo.)  bound  up  with  Puffendorf's  de  Officio.  Is  it  the  same  book  as 
the  tW&sc-ij  ? 

I  send  you  two  or  three  little  sermons  which  you  have  not  yet  seen, 
and  my  defence,  which  will  tell  its  own  tale.  I  shall  print  another 
volume  of  miscellanies,  and  one  more  of  sermons  and  speeches,  as  soon 
as  I  find  time  for  the  work. 

"With  many  thanks  for  your  noble  book,  believe  me,  affectionately 
yours, 

THEODOBE  PABKEB. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Aug.  11,  1857. 

.  MY  YEBT  DEAB  Miss  CoBBE, — It  is  more  than  a  year  since  I  wrote 
you  a  line,  and  my  last  letter,  I  think,  you  never  received,  for  I  gave  it 
as  an  introduction  to  one  of  my  friends,  who  took  an  Irish  wife,  and 
went  to  show  her  parents  the  new  baby.  It  was  Mr.  Brace,  who  has 
written  some  clever  books,  and  is  one  of  the  best  young  men  that  I 
know.  He  married  a  Miss  Neile,  of  Belfast,  and  lives  at  New  York, 
busied  in  picking  forlorn  children  out  of  the  streets  of  that  Gomorrah 
of  the  new  world,  and  placing  them  in  worthy  families.  So  he  saves 
"  such  as  be  ready  to  perish." 

I  had  no  right  to  expect  a  letter  from  you  when  the  last  one  came, 
but  as  the  telegraph  announced  the  arrival  of  the  steamer,  I  said : 
"  Now  there  is  a  letter  from  dear  Miss  Cobbe,"  and  when  the  letters  were 
brought  up — behold  there  were  many,  some  from  G-ermany,  one  from 
England,  but  none  from  her.  I  felt  sure  there  was  some  mistake,  and 
the  next  morning  yours  actually  came ;  it  had  been  overlooked  the  day 
before,  but  I  did  not  think  of  the  heaviness  of  heart  with  which  you 
had  been  writing.  I  suppose  the  sad  event — sad  to  the  survivors — has 
taken  place  before  this,  and  the  venerable  head  is  laid  peacefully  to  rest, 
while  the  soul  has  gone  home  to  its  Father  and  Mother.  I  am  the 
youngest  of  eleven  children,  and  of  course  my  parents  were  old  when 
I  was  born  ;  my  mother  was  forty-nine,  my  father  more  than  fifty.  My 
father's  mother  lived  with  us,  and  passed  on.at  the  age  of  ninety-two. 
She  was  more  than  eighty  when  I  was  born.  My  father  died  at  seventy- 
seven.  So  you  see  old  age  is  familiar  to  me.  I  love  the  venerable 
hairs  of  old  persons,  not  less  than  the 'brown  locks  which  curl  so  hand 
somely  about  youthful  brows.  But  we  don't  sorrow  for  the  old  as  for 
the  young.  It  is  right  and  natural  that  the  ripe  apple  should  fall  in 
Time's  autumn  night.  My  grandmother,  my  father,  grown  old  but 
with  faculties  still  bright,  were  glad  to  pass  further  on,  taking  the  next 
step  in  the  continuous  process  whereof  birth  is  the  first.  "We  shed 
natural  tears,  and  the  place  felt  cold  when  the  shadow  of  an  empty 
chair  fell  on  the  household  fire.  But  we  recognised  the  fitness  of  it  all. 
There  are  two  points  of  certainty :  the  infinite  perfection  of  God,  the 
immortality  of  man ;  those  are  fixed,  and  the  consciousness  of  them  is 


THEODORE   PARKER.  461 

not  merely  a  matter  of  reflective  demonstration  for  the  philosophic  few, 
but  rather  of  spontaneous  instinct  for  the  sympathetic  many.  Between 
these  two  points  hangs  the  great  world  of  human  consciousness,  with 
its  hopes,  fears,  doubts,  uncertainties,  disappointments,  errors,  follies, 
joys,  sins,  terrors,  and  unbounded  aspirations.  But  all  are  supported 
on  these  two  points  of  certainty,  and  I  think  it  is  the  end  of  wisdom  to 
know  this,  as  it  is  the  beginning  to  feel  it.  Sure  of  my  continuance,  and 
sure  of  God,  I  fear  nothng.  There  is  compensation  for  all  sorrow, 
and  recovery  for  all  sickness  of  the  soul. 

Tour  book  came  most  welcome ;  it  is  every  way  worthy  of  its  prede 
cessor.  I  read  it  with  joy — not  always  without  tears.  I  meant  to 
have  it  republished  here  a  year  ago,  and  took  it  to  my  bookselling 
friends.  Two  wealthy  and  excellent  houses — Little  and  Brown,  and 
Ticknor  and  Co., — thought  well  of  the  work,  but  said  such  a  book  on 
such  a  theme  would  have  but  a  slow  sale,  and  they  should  make  no 
money  by  it.  Now  I  am  very  anxious  to  have  it  brought  out  here,  and 
but  for  a  little  trouble  in  my  own  finances  during  one  or  two  years  (I 
have  been  stereotyping  some  of  my  own  books,  which  took  all  my  spare 
money),  I  should  have  taken  the  risk  myself,  and  spread  the  work 
before  the  American  public.  I  think  if  I  am  financially  prosperous, 
that  when  the  work  is  finished  I  will  stand  as  godfather,  and  secure 
the  publisher  from  any  loss,  and  so  honor  the  Continent  with  so  valu 
able  a  birtlfc  A  Eev.  Mr.  Buckingham,  a  Unitarian  minister  in  Hartford, 
Connecticut,  found  a  copy  by  accident  in  a  book-store,  and  was  much 
delighted  with  it.  He  wrote  to  me  to  enquire  for  the  author,  and  has 
now  written  a  review  of  it  for  the  Christian  Examiner,  the  TJnitarian 
periodical,  one  of  the  best  journals  in  America.  It  will  appear  about 
January ;  I  fear  not  earlier.  He  says,  "  she  is  a  fine  fellow,  though  a 
little  old-fashioned."  He  envied  your  wide  and  deep  learning,  as  well 
he  might. 

Now  let  me  say  a  word  or  two  about  myself.  I  have  been  ill  for 
nearly  six  months,  a  thing  quite  unusual  with  me,  who  have  not  before 
passed  a  day  in  bed  since  I  was  twelve  years  old,  which  is  now  thirty- 
four  years.  I  had  a  fever,  with  typhoidal  and  pleuritic  symptoms.  Eor 
a  long  time  I  could  not  preach,  Mr.  Phillips,  E.  W.  Emerson,  and 
similar  men  taking  my  place.  Even  now  I  am  ill ;  feebler  than  usual, 
but  likely  to  recover.  My  wife  and  I  are  passing  the  summer  in  a 
charming  little  country  place,  seven  miles  from  Boston,  where  I  do 
nothing  but  gather  wild  flowers,  swim  in  the  fresh  water,  sit  under 
trees,  and  read  what  takes  my  fancy.  To-day  I  start  with  a  few  friends 
in  a  yacht,  for  a  sail  along  our  coasts,  to  be  absent  a  fortnight.  I  hope 
to  preach  again  the  6th  September,  and  be  as  well  as  ever.  You  will 
receive  this  about  August  24,  I  fancy,  which  is  my  forty-seventh  birth 
day.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  when  you  were  born,  that  I  may  keep 
the  day  as  a  festival.  So  I  do  with  other  dear  ones.  Please  grant  me 
this  favor,  and  I  shall  mark  with  a  white  stone  one  more  day  in  iny 
friendly  year. 

TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Dec.  4,  1857. 

MY  DEAB  Miss  COBBE, — I  meant  to  write  this  letter  so  that  you 
should  receive  it  on  your  birthday ;  but  the  relation  with  the  day  is 


462  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

still  the  same,  though  the  time  be  different.  I  send  you  the  last  number 
of  the  Examiner,  the  chief  Unitarian  periodical,  and  one  of  the  best,  if 
not  the  best,  in  America.  It  is  edited  by  the  Eev.  Dr.  Hedge,  Pro 
fessor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the  School  at  Cambridge,  and  Rev. 
Mr.  Hale,  whose  note  touching  your  book  you  received  some  time 
since.  The  article  on  your  "  Intuitive  Morals,"  p.  370-84,  is  written 
by  the  Eev.  Mr.  Buckingham,  a  man  about  forty  years  old,  not  settled 
now,  but  a  pleasant  preacher  and  serious,  earnest  man,  with  a  touch  of 
genius  about  him  it  is  said.  You  will  see  the  earnest,  progressive 
spirit  that  is  in  him.  I  hope  you  will  be  pleased  with  the  article.  Mr. 
B.  saw  a  copy  of  your  book  on  a  friend's  table,  was  much  interested  in 
it,  borrowed  it,  read  it,  and  then  wrote  me,  asking  what  man  (!)  had 
written  so  noble  a  book  ?  I  put  him  in  the  way  of  the  other  volume, 
and  he  then  wrote  the  article.  The  last  paragraph  is  by  Mr.  Hale. 

One  of  these  days  I  will  send  you  the  photograph  you  speak  of,  if  I 
can  ever  get  a  good  one.  There  is  a  crayon  portrait  by  my  friend,  Mr. 
Cheney,  now  dead,  which  my  intimates  like,  and  a  great  lithograph 
which  they  do  not  like.  I  judge  neither.  The  London  Times  says  of 
Lord  Brougham,  "  Nature  certainly  did  not  make  him  a  handsome 
man."  I  fear  the  oracle  would  not  be  more  complimentary  to  me ;  but 
when  I  get  a  photograph  which  is  decent,*  I  will  certainly  send  it. 

We  have  been  married  nearly  twenty-one  years,  and  have  never  a 
child.  We  have  a  moderate  little  property,  partly  my  wife's  in 
heritance,  partly  my  earnings ;  a  good  house,  a  large  collection  of  books. 
Her  name  was  Cabot.  The  family  claim  descent  from  the  famous 
Giovanni  Cabotti,  who  discovered  these  parts  of  the  continent.  Her 
domestic  name  is  Bear,  or  Bearsie ;  and  various  symbols  of  "  Beauty 
and  the  Beast  "  appear  in  the  house.  As  usual,  she  is  nearly  the 
opposite  of  her  husband,  except  in  the  matter  of  philanthropy.  A 
young  man  by  the  name  of  Cabot,  one-and-twenty  years  old,  lives  with 
us.  We  have  brought  him  up  from  infancy ;  his  mother  died  when  he 
was  five  or  six ;  he  is  now  in  the  store  of  a  large  West  India  goods 
dealer.  An  unmarried  lady,  a  little  more  than  fifty  years  old — Miss 
Stevenson — a  woman  of  fine  talents  and  culture,  interested  in  all  the 
literatures  and  humanities,  is  with  us.  These  are  the  permanent  family, 
to  which  visitors  make  frequent  and  welcome  additions. 

You  are  very  dear  to  us  all.  I  ought  to  say  that  my  wife  was  born 
September  12,  1813 ;  and  so  is  three  years  younger  than  I.  She  is 
tall,  with  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair,  a  little  white  beginning  to  steal  in 
insidiously.  My  eyes  are  also  blue,  my  head  is  bald,  and  my  beard 
grey.  I  am  five  feet  eight  inches  high,  and  weigh  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  .All  my  forebears  were  great,  tall,  stout  men,  six  feet 
without  their  shoes,  weighing  two  hundred  pounds  and  more.  My 

mother  was  a  slight  delicate  woman,  with  a  fine  organization So 

much  about  ourselves.  As  my  letter  is  dated  your  birthday,  and  your 
last  note  was  on  mine,  and  you  asked  for  some  particulars  about  us  all, 
it  is  not  so  egotistic  as  it  looks.  Now  to  other  things :  No.  VII.  in 
the  Examiner  is  by  Dr.  Hedge;  you  will  be  surprised  at  the  freedom 
with  which  it  criticises  parts  of  the  "New  Test." ;  it  has  already  wakened 
the  wrath  of  some  of  the  bigots,  who  have  attacked  Dr.  H.  in  the 
Christian  Register,  the  Unitarian  newspaper  of  Boston. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  463 

Have  you  seen  a  quite  remarkable  book  by  H.  T.  Buckle  ?  It  is  a 
"  History  of  Civilization  in  England,"  vol.  i.  (pp.  xxiv.  and  854,  London, 
J.  W.  Parker).  It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  instructive 
books  I  have  seen  from  the  English  press  in  this  century.  I  do  not 
always  agree  with  him,  but  he  is  a  great  man — learned  too  in  many 
departments  of  thought.  I  have  read  only  the  first  part  of  his  book. 
Can  you  tell  me  who  he  is,  what  his  antecedents  were,  and  his  sur 
roundings.  The  work  is  not  less  significant  in  its  department  than  the 
"  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History  of  Creation  "  in  another  sphere. 

What  a  terrible  time  dear  old  England  has  in  India.  Both  parties 
are  in  the  wrong ;  England  has  treated  India  harshly,  exploited  her. 
No  doubt  her  native  rulers  did  the  same,  perhaps  in  a  worse  manner, 
and  to  a  greater  extent ;  but  it  is  more  inexcusable  in  Father  Bull  to 
do  such  an  evil  thing,  for  he  knows  better.  But  I  suppose  he  will 
conquer,  kill  ten  men  and  violate  twenty  women  where  the  Indians 
did  but  one  or  two,  and  then  celebrate  thanksgivings  in  all  his 
churches.  I  look  with  great  pride  on  this  Anglo-Saxon  people.  It 
has  many  faults,  but  I  think  it  is  the  best  specimen  of  mankind  which 
has  ever  attained  great  power  in  the  world.  One  day  I  fancy  Asia 
will  be  divided  beween  the  Russians  and  the  English,  and  the  English 
people  will  have  the  whole  of  America,  South  as  well  as  North.  I 
think  it  can  be  done  by  no  violence  or  cruelty,  but  it  will  not  be.  I 
wonder  what  the  moral  effect  of  your  two  recent  wars  will  be  in 
England.  Will  it  make  you  a  nobler  people,  as  trouble  did  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  ? 

In  America  we  are  to  have  much  trouble  from  the  question  of  slavery. 
You  in  England,  I  think,  do  not  see  how  slavery  corrupts  everything. 
Politics,  theology,  literature,  trade,  it  is  the  bete  noire  which  threatens 
to  devour  all  the  flock.  Every  national  administration  pets  and  cossets 
it.  The  democratic  party  thinks  it  is  the  only  American  institution 
worth  spreading.  Every  Irishman  in  the  United  States  is  in  favour  of 
slavery,  so  are  all  the  Jews.  The  Germans  go  the  other  way.  So 
strong  is  national  disposition  !  No  property  here  is  held  so  sacred  as 
property  in  men.  No  laws  so  important  as  the  laws  of  slavery.  There 
is  trouble  before  us  !  I  care  little  how  soon  it  comes. 

Of  course,  you  know  what  a  sad  commercial  panic  we  are  passing 
through  in  America,  as  in  England.  I  hope  both  nations  will  come 
out  of  it  wiser  than  before.  I  hope  your  honoured  father  continues 
comfortable,  and  your  own  health  and  spirits  are  as  good  as  your  heart. 
We  all  send  you  our  love. 


FROM   D.    H.   TWEEDY. 

Stamfordville,  New  York,  Feb.  10,  1856. 

DEAB  SIB, — "  The  world  does  move."  It  was  very  gratifying  to  me,  on 
the  receipt  of  your  pamphlets  at  the  Post-office  in  our  country  store, 
to  see  the  physician,  the  merchant,  and  some  of  my  most  bitter  oppo 
nents,  each  with  book  in  hand,  lost  to  everything  else,  and  to  hear  them 
exclaim,  "good,"  *•  here's  a  good  idea,"  "just  hear  this,"  &c.  One 
said,  "  these  are  my  sentiments,  but  I  did  not  know  how  to  express 
them,"  &c. 


464  LIFE   AND    COERESPONDENCE   OF 

When  I  gave  a  home  to  Stephen  and  Abby  Foster,  Parker  Pillsbury, 
&c.,  those  same  persons  could  hardly  find  language  bitter  enough 
wherewith  to  denounce  them  and  me.  But  this  was  not  my  worst 
offence :  universalists  and  heretics  of  all  sorts,  when  travelling,  have 
found  a  resting-place  with  us,  and  occasionally  I  have  dared  to  question 
the  doctrine  advanced  by  their  minister ;  but  now  I  could  not  get  away 
without  leaving  some  of  those  anti-slavery  and  heretical  works  with 
them,  and  promising  to  loan  the  rest  at  some  future  time. 

The  Baptists  in  our  vicinity  are  holding  a  protracted  meeting ;  it  has 
continued  near  a  month,  only  letting  off  the  steam  now  and  then,  long 
enough  to  establish  or  confirm  their  new  converts  by  immersing  them 
in  ice- water. 

A  more  interesting  and  progressive  society  has  been  organized  in  the 
same  village,  who  meet  regularly  to  read  and  discuss  the  merits  of 
your  discourses ;  sometimes  they  elicit  so  many  comments  that  but 
a  few  pages  will  occupy  a  long  evening,  and  we  do  not  consider  it  lost 
time,  as  it  induces  people  to  think  for  themselves,  the  first  progressive 
movement,  and  calls  forth  their  ideas  another  step. 

Those  meetings  are  composed  of  such  as  have  very  little  sympathy 
with  the  churches  called  orthodox ;  we  have  two  volumes  of  your 
Discourses  on  Eeligion,  and  those  you  sent  me  come  in  play. 

So  you  see  we  have  a  counter  revival,  and  the  prospect  is  that  we 
shall  make  the  most  converts ;  and  that  ours  will  be  of  that  class  who 
possess  the  most  intelligence. 

My  wife  joins  me  in  wishing  you  success  in  your  labours  for  the 
-cause  of  humanity. 

Tours,  &c.,  D.  H.  TWEEDY. 


FROM   E.    H.    BOWMAN. 

Edgington,  Illinois,  December  25,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  SIE, — Somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  year  ago,  I 
took  the  liberty  of  addressing  you.  Although  an  entire  stranger,  and 
destitute  of  all  claims  of  a  personal  character  on  your  time  and  atten 
tion,  still  your  kindness  did  not  deceive  or  rather  fail  me. 

I  received  the  volumes  you  sent  me,  and  have  perused  them,  not  only 
once,  but  again.  I  feel  truly  grateful ;  I  was  like  a  chick  just  pipping 
the  shell,  so  to  speak ;  you  kindly  assisted  me,  and  very  materially 
expedited  the  process.  You  requested  me  to  flet  you  hear  from 
me  again.  If  I  have  delayed  near  a  twelvemonth,  it  has  not  been 
without  reason.  In  the  first  place  I  know  "new  converts"  to  any 
views,  party,  or  sect,  are  apt  to  be  carried  away  by  enthusiastic 
feeling  and  excitement.  The  novelty  wears  off  by  time  and  the 
attrition  of  circumstances.  Not  claiming  any  unusual  exemption  from 
the  frailties  of  humanity,  I  deemed  it  prudent  to  try  myself,  and  give 
time  for  sober  second  thoughts. 

A  year  is  probably  a  reasonable  probation,  and  on  careful  retrospect 
I  find  myself  more  and  more  strongly  confirmed  in  the  radical  change 
which  has  taken  place  in  my  views  of  Q-od  and  Man,  and  the  relation 
between  the  two. 


THEODORE   PARKER.  465 

When  I  wrote  to  you  last,  I  was  quite  sanguine  as  to  the  possibility 
of  extending  such  views  in  my  neighbourhood.  The  observation  and 
reflection  of  a  year  have  materially  moderated  that  sanguine  expectation. 
I  find  many  good  men  seem  to  look  on  me  with  a  suspicious  eye.  I 
cannot  get  access  to  their  ear.  One  of  my  intimate  friends,  an  old- 
school  Presbyterian  preacher,  who  has  known  me  familiarly  for  thirteen 
years,  and  been  more  conversant  with  my  mental  habits  than  any  other 
man,  gives  me  no  chance  to  broach  any  controverted  subjects.  I  can 
scarcely  indulge  the  vanity  that  he  fears  an  encounter.  Being  a  man 
of  good  reasoning  powers,  close  observation,  and  a  most  excellent  heart, 
he  possibly  misgives  as  to  the  strength  of  his  fortress.  Yeb  he  does 
preach  the  hardest  sermons  and  doctrines  extant.  He  seems  to  me 
sometimes  almost  desperate,  as  if  his  own  mind  was  not  satisfied  with 
its  meagre  fare,  yet  determined  not  to  acknowledge  it,  even  in  his 
inmost  soul.  I  heard  him  preach  a  sermon  not  long  since  on  the 
miraculous  and  divinely-inspired  character  of  the  Bible.  I  could  not 
help  pitying  him.  With  solemn  earnestness  he  took  the  ground  that 
if  a  single  word  were  untrue  then  the  whole  must  be  false.  It  looked 
to  me  like  the  desperation  of  the  gambler  who  risks  his  pile  on  a 
single  throw,  and  that  made  wildly,  with  shut  eyes.  Just  as  if  a 
single  truth  of  God  could  be  corrupted  or  negatived  by  mountains  of 
error.  I  found  men  hard  to  approach.  Touch  any  of  their  favorite 
views  and  they  turn  fiercely,  somewhat  like  Micah  of  old — "  Would  ye 
take  away  my  gods,  and  what  would  we  have  left  ?" 

It  seems  hard  to  make  entrance  for  a  new  idea.  It  took  me  a  good 
while  to  progress  to  where  your  writings  found  me,  and  I  believe  I  am 
more  than  ordinarily  inclined  to  think  for  myself,  and  assert  man's 
right  to  personal  individuality.  I  am  inclined  to  doubt  the  success,  to 
any  great  extent,  of  diffusing  a  correct  knowledge  of  religious  truth 
by  efforts  directed  to  adult  minds*  They  have  generally  received  their 
impressions,  and  become  hardened  into  such  shape  as  the  operating 
forces  may  give.  You  cannot  change  them ;  the  capacity  is  not  there. 
The  advocates  of  the  "  popular  theology  "  have  imitated  the  wisdom  of 
the  Jesuits,  and  much  of  their  labor  is  expended  in  special  efforts  upon 
the  mind  of  childhood  and  youth.  Now,  the  friends  of  absolute  truth, 
it  seems  to  me,  must  imitate  the  wise  example,  and  spend  their  efforts 
in  the  same  field.  In  adults,  far  more  labor  is  requisite  to  pull  down 
error  already  established,  than  would  be  needful  to  instil  truth  into  the 
unoccupied  minds  of  children.  Teachers  of  common  schools  could  do 
more  than  preachers  among  adults.  The  system  of  Sabbath  schools 
could  be  advantageously  imitated,  and  made  to  contribute  as  actively 
to  the  moral  and  affectional  growth  of  the  human  soul,  as  now  they  do 
to  fetter  and  confine.  I  am  busy  everywhere  I  go,  trying  to  do  good. 
In  my  capacity  as  physician  I  have  access  to  many.  I  can  help  to 
introduce  some  knowledge  of  truth;  and  the  connection  between 
obedience  to  physical  and  moral  law  is  so  close,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
separate  the  two.  I  believe  the  vocation  of  physician  and  preacher 
should  be  combined,  and  will  be,  ultimately.  In  my  address  as  one  of 
the  officers  of  our  county  medical  society,  I  took  for  my  theme  the  rela 
tions  of  our  profession  to  the  moral  and  intellectual  progress  of  man- 
31 


466  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE   OF 

kind.  The  views  which  I  then  presented  to  my  brethren  seemed  to 
strike  them  as  novel,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  to  be  true.  I  claimed 
for  our  profession  that,  with  all  the  rubbish  of  centuries,  it  still  had  in 
it  the.  master-key  of  human  progress.  Theology  is  finished.  Law  looks 
to  no  new  truth  ;  it  is  all  learned  already,  and  is  now  stored  up  in  the 
musty  records  of  the  past.  Medical  science  has  man  for  its  subject, 
and  extends  to  the  investigation  of  every  cause  that  can  or  does  operate 
favourably  or  unfavourably  on  the  human  organization.  We  are  already 
on  your  platform,  a  simple  but  sublime  one.  We  investigate  fearlessly 
after  truth.  We  acknowledge  practically  "no  master  but  God,"  and 
accept  "  no  creed  but  truth.'1 

I  feel  now  more  than  any  other  single  thing  the  want  of  intercourse 
with  those  of  similar  views;  "iron  sharpeneth  iron,  so  doth  the 
countenance  of  a  man  his  friend."  I  can  in  a  small  degree  begin  to 
comprehend  the  firmness  needed  to  not  only  "  go  alone,"  but  in  addi- 
ton  to  stem  the  current  of  opposition  which  has  its  source  in 
ignorance,  fanaticism,  and  intolerance. 

On  the  subject  of  slavery  I  do  not  entirely  harmonize  with  you ; 
I  spent  several  years  in  the  midst  of  slavery  in  its  mildest  form,  that 
is,  in  Kentucky.  Having  had  my  birth  and  what  little  education  I 
possessed  in  a  free  state,  I  was  disposed  to  observe  closely,  and  the 
sum  of  my  observations  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  the  dominant 
race  was  more  legitimately  the  proper  object  of  pity  than  the  servile. 
The  servile  is  gradually  improving  by  contact  and  amalgamation  with 
the  white  race ;  on  the  contrary  the  white  race  is  visibly  retrograding. 

God's  eternal  law  of  right  is  setting  its  seal  there,  in  characters  so 
plain  that  it  seems  to  me,  "  He  that  runs  may  read  it ;"  just  in  propor 
tion  to  the  wrong  inflicted  by  the  powerful  and  knowing  on  the  weak 
and  ignorant,  is  the  rebound  on  the  wrongdoer  of  righteous  retribution. 

That  retribution  is,  it  seems  to  me,  intensified  in  proportion  to  the 
difference  in  the  moral  and  intellectual  development  of  the  races. 
With  this  view,  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  the  wrongdoers  are  in  need 
of  more  pity  and  commiseration  than  the  enslaved  and  oppressed 
Africans.  The  steady  result  is  the  gradual  elevation  of  one  race,  and 
the  depression  of  the  other  until  an  equilibrium  is  attained.  "  God's 
balances  are  even.'* 

One  of  the  sources  of  vitality  in  slavery  is  the  infusion  of  new 
material  from  the  North.  Commerce,  theology,  teaching,  and  adven 
ture  take  every  year  many  young  men  from  the  free  states.  A  limited 
view  of  their  own  interest  converts  them  to  supporters  of  the  "peculiar 
institution,"  and  in  time  they  "  out-Herod  Herod." 

But  I  fear  I  have  been  trespassing  on  your  time  in  rather  garrulous 
style,  so  will  stop. 

Very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

E.  H.  BOWMATT. 

I  should  like  to  hear  from  you,  if  not  incompatible  with  your  duties 
and  inclinations,  when  you  may  have  leisure. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  467 


FROM    HENRY    THOMAS    BUCKLE. 

59,  Oxford  Terrace,  London,  March  27,  1858. 

DEAE  SIB, — I  have  delayed  several  days  answering  your  very 
obliging  letter,  in  the  expectation  of  receiving  the  review  of  my  history 
which  you  mention  having  sent  to  me. 

Several  numbers  of  the  Massachusetts  Quarterly  Review  have  been 
forwarded  to  me,  but  not  the  Christian  Examiner.  However,  I  will 
defer  no  longer  thanking  you  for  a  mark  of  attention  which  I  value 
highly  as  proceeding  from  one  with  whose  writings  I  am  so  familiar. 

That  men  simply  urged  by  a  love  of  truth  should  know  and  com 
municate  to  each  other  without  personal  acquaintance  is  a  cheering 
consideration,  and  thus  it  has  always  been  in  the  history  of  literature, 
and  thus  I  trust  always  will  be.  I  will  not  reply  to  your  objections, 
partly  because  I  dislike  controversy,  and  partly  because  it  would  be 
impossible  to  state  in  the  limits  of  a  letter  my  view  of  the  most 
important  point,  namely,  the  moral  and  intellectual  laws. 

I  have  requested  the  publisher  to  send  you  a  copy  of  Fraser  as 
soon  as  it  is  issued,  which  will  be  on  the  1st  of  April.  It  will  contain 
a  report  of  a  lecture  which  I  delivered  a  few  days  since,  at  the  Royal 
Institution  here,  and  which  has  made  some  little  talk. 

Possibly  you  may  be  interested  in  my  view  of  the  too  empirical  cha 
racter  of  English  science. 

Believe  me,  dear  Sir,  with  great  regard,  very  sincerely  yours, 

HENBY  THOMAS  BTJCKLE. 


FROM   THE   SAME. 

59,  Oxford  Terrace,  London,  April  4,  1858. 

MY  DEAB  SIR,— I  have  just  received  anotner  parcel,  containing  not 
only  the  Christian  Examiner,  but  (what  I  value  even  more)  a  collection 
of  your  own  works.  By  sending  these  last  you  have  really  placed  me 
under  a  very  considerable  obligation,  as,  apart  from  the  interest  I  feel 
in  whatever  you  write,  such  productions  are  among  the  best  materials 
I  could  have  for  estimating  the  highest  points  of  American  speculation 
and  American  knowledge. 

My  next  volume  will  contain  a  history  of  the  civilization  of  the 
United  States,  and  I  shall,  perhaps,  some  day  encroach  upon  your  kind 
ness  by  troubling  you  with  some  questions  on  the  subject.  The  im 
portance  of  the  investigation  is  only  equalled  by  its  difficulty.  Before 
publishing  my  next  volume  I  shall,  if  possible,  pay  a  visit  to  the  United 
States,  and  the  prospect  of  making  your  acquaintance  will  be  no  small 
inducement  to  do  so. 

You  will  no  doubt  have  received  a  letter  which  I  wrote  to  you 
towards  the  end  of  March. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  yours  very  sincerely, 

HENEY  THOMAS  BUCKLE. 

I  hope  you  have  received  Fraser  for  1st  April,  containing  my  lecture 
on  the  "  Influence  of  Women." 


468          LIFE  AND  CORRESPONDENCE  OF 


FROM  THE  SAME. 

59,  Oxford  Terrace,  London,  July  9,  1858. 

MY  DEAE  SIR, — Absence  from  town  prevented  me  from  receiving 
till  yesterday  your  very  kind  and  friendly  letter.  I  certainly  shall  not 
venture  to  write  upon  the  civilization  of  your  noble  country  until  I 
have  visited  it,  and  satisfied  myself  in  regard  to  many  matters  respecting 
which  books  (as  you  truly  say)  supply  no  adequate  information.  Indeed 
in  the  national  character  of  every  really  great  people  there  is  a  certain 
shape  and  colour  which  cannot  be  recognized  at  a  distance.  But,  at 
present,  I  am  exclusively  occupied  with  an  analysis  of  the  civilization 
of  Spain  and  Scotland,  which  I  hope  to  publish  early  next  year  ;  and 
should  I  fulfil  that  expectation,  I  shall  hope  to  visit  America  in  the 
summer  of  1859. 

In  regard  to  Scotland,  the  leading  facts  are  its  religious  intolerance 
and  the  absence  of  the  municipal  spirit  during  the  middle  ages.  The 
causes  of  these  phenomena  I  have  attempted  to  generalize. 

Spain  I  have  almost  finished,  but  I  find  a  difficulty  in  collecting  evi 
dence  respecting  the  rapid  decline  of  that  country  during  the  reigns  of 
Philip  III.,  Philip  IV.,  and  Charles  II.  In  investigating  the  causes  of 
the  decline  (both  remote  and  proximate),  I  trust  that  I  have  not  been 
wholly  unsuccessful.  In  Mr.  Ticknor's  singularly  valuable  "  History 
of  Spanish  Literature  "  there  is  more  real  information  than  can  be  found 
in  any  of  the  many  Spanish  histories  which  I  have  had  occasion  to 
read. 

You  mention  a  book  on  America  by  a  Pole  as  being  important,  but 
I  cannot  quite  decipher  his  name.  I  should  be  very  glad  to  buy  it, 
and  if  you  would  take  the  trouble  to  send  its  title  either  to  me  or  to 
your  London  bookseller,  with  a  request  that  he  should  forward  it  to 
me,  you  would  render  me  a  service. 

I  do  not  like  reading  at  public  libraries,  and  I  purchase  nearly  all 
the  books  which  I  use.  I  have  at  present  about  20,000  volumes. 

I  believe  you  correspond  with  Mr.  Chapman;  if  so,  would  you 
kindly  beg  him  to  send  me  any  criticisms  which  appear  in  America  on 
my  book.  You  ought  to  know  of  some  which  he  would  not  be 
aware  of. 

Sometime  ago  I  received  from  an  American  publisher  a  request  that 
I  would  write  my  life ;  at  that  time  I  was  very  unwell,  worn  from  over 
work,  and  harassed  by  domestic  anxiety.  I  also  thought  the  form  of 
the  request  rather  blunt ;  and  from  all  these  causes  I  was  induced  to 
return  a  somewhat  curt  answer,  and  one  very  foreign  to  my  usual 
habits.  But  you  and  I  are  no  longer  strangers  to  each  other,  and  I 
willingly  send  you  the  particulars  which  you  desire  for  your  friend. 

I  was  born  at  Lee,  in  Kent,  on  the  24th  of  November,  1822.  My 
father  was  a  merchant.  His  name  was  Thomas  Henry  Buckle,  and  he 
was  descended  from  a  family,  one  of  whom  was  well-known  as  Lord 
Mayor  of  London  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  He  died  in  1840. 
My  mother,  who  still  lives,  was  a  Miss  Middleton,  of  the  Yorkshire 
Middletons. 


/  THEODORE   PARKER.  4-69 

As  a  boy,  my  health  was  extremely  delicate,  and  my  parents  were 
fortunately  guided  by  the  advice  of  that  good  and  wise  man,  Dr. 
Birkbeck  (whose  name  I  believe  is  not  unknown  in  America),  who 
forbade  my  receiving  any  education  that  would  tax  the  brain. 

This  prevented  me  from  being,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word, 
educated,  and  also  prevented  my  going  to  college.  When  I  was  in  my 
eighteenth  year  my  father  died  (January,  1840) ,  and  left  me  in  inde 
pendent  circumstances,  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view. 

My  health  steadily  improved,  and  to  this  moment  I  had  read  little 
except  "  Shakespeare,"  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  and  "  Bunyan's  Pil- 
grim'o  Progress/'  three  books  on  which  I  literally  feasted. 

Between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and  nineteen  I  conceived  the  plan  of 
my  book — dimly  indeed — but  still  the  plan  was  there,  and  I  set  about 
its  execution.  From  the  age  of  nineteen  I  have  worked  on  an  average 
nine  to  ten  hours  daily.  My  method  was  this.  In  the  morning  I 
usually  studied  physical  science,  in  the  forenoon  languages  (of  which, 
till  the  age  of  nineteen,  I  was  deplorably  ignorant),  and  the  rest  of  the 
day  history  and  jurisprudence.  In  the  evening  general  literature.  I 
have  always  steadily  refused  to  write  in  reviews,  being  determined  to 
give  up  my  life  to  a  larger  purpose. 

I  have,  therefore,  produced  nothing  except  the  first  volume  of  my 
"History,"  and  the  "Lecture  on  the  Influence  of  Women." 

This,  I  think,  is  all  you  requested  me  to  communicate.  Any  further 
information  which  your  friend  may  require  will  be  much  at  his  service. 
I  should  always  feel  it  a  pleasure  and  a  privilege  to  hear  from  you,  and 
am,  my  dear  sir,  yours  very  sincerely, 

HENET  THOMAS  BUCKLE. 


FROM   THE    SAME. 
Eltham  Place,  Eltham  Road,  near  Blackheath,  July  5,  1859. 

MY  DEAR  SIR,— I  have  been  in  town  for  a  few  days  on  business,  and 
found  your  card  on  my  table  in  Oxford  Terrace.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much  I  regret  that  we  should  not  have  met.  The  great  respect  which 
I  feel  for  you  as  the  most  advanced  leader  of  opinion  in  one  of  the  two 
first  nations  of  the  world,  would  of  itself  suffice  to  make  me  eager  for 
the  pleasure  of  your  personal  acquaintance. 

And  when  I  add  to  this,  the  memory  of  your  obliging  and  friendly 
letters  to  me,  you  will  easily  believe  me  when  I  say  how  much  I  have 
been  disappointed  at  being  unable  to  call  upon  you,  and  make  arrange 
ments  to  see  you. 

But  the  severest  of  all  calamities  has  befallen  me,  and  has  so  pros 
trated  my  nervous  system  that  I  am  now  enjoined  the  strictest  quiet. 

Your  conversation  would  arouse  in  me  so  many  associations,  and 
excite  me  to  so  many  inquiries  respecting  your  noble  country,  that  I 
feel  myself,  alas,  unequal  to  meeting  you ;  and,  as  you  might  possibly 
hear  from  some  of  my  friends  in  London,  I  have  been  compelled  to 

f've  up  all  society.     In  such  cases,  the  more  I  am  interested  the  more 
am  hurt.     I  do  not  know  how  long  you  are  likely  to  stay  in  England  ; 


470  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

but  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  hear  from  you,  and  to  be  assured 
that  you  understand  the  cause  of  my  apparent  inattention.  I  shall 
probably  remain  here  until  the  end  of  August. 

Believe  me  to  be,  most  truly  yours, 

HENRY  THOMAS  BUCKLE. 


TO   REV.    M.  A.    H.    NILES,    NORTHAMPTON,   MASS. 

West  Roxbury,  March  4,  1845. 

MY  DEAR  SIR, — I  thank  you  for  the  kind  and  affectionate  letter 
which  you  wrote  me  the  other  day.  I  have  just  received  it,  and  as  I 
shall  be  absent  for  a  few  days  I  will  reply  now.  I  felt  a  strong  interest 
in  you  from  the  much  that  I  heard  and  the  little  that  I  saw  of  you  at 
Marblehead.  You  have  certainly  left  a  strong  impression  of  yourself 
on  some  who  were  not  your  parishioners  in  that  place.  Mr.  F.  told 
me  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  your  case  in  that  town.  I  confess 
I  thought  you  were  too  far  before  them  for  their  appreciation ;  and  this 
is  a  very  peculiar  circumstance  for  a  minister  now-a-days.  The  ques 
tions  that  you  mention  have  been  to  me  one  of  the  greatest  interest 
for  many  years.  The  relation  between  man  and  G-od,  and  the  inspira 
tion  that  man  can  receive  through  that  relation,  was  a  subject  of  deep 
interest  to  me  when  a  child.  As  a  boy,  I  had  reached  in  sentiment 
the  same  results  that  I  now  hold  as  ideas  translated  out  of  the 
unconscious  into  consciousness.  The  canonical  nature  of  a  book  is 
still  of  a  good  deal  of  importance  to  me  (though  not  the  same  as  to  you, 
I  fancy)  for  I  like  to  know  how  near  a  man  stood  to  that  mighty  soul 
of  religion  which  so  aroused  the  world.  Still  I  do  not  always  find 
the  canonical  books,  such  as  came  from  the  disciples  of  Christ,  so  much 
better  than  those  of  men  a  little  more  remote.  Thus  the  Epistle  of 
James  is  worth  more  to  me  than  the  1st  of  Peter,  though  there  is 
little  doubt  of  the  genuineness  of  the  latter,  and  little  evidence  for  the 
genuineness  of  the  former. 

I  think  the  matter  of  the  Apocryphal  Christian  writings  of  the  first 
and  second  centuries  has  never  been  duly  inquired  into.  Mr.  Norton 
has  written  something  which  I  think  is  quite  shallow,  on  this  matter 
in  his  late  work.  I  can't  find  evidence,  internal  or  external,  that  the 
writers  of  the  Bible  had  a  mode  of  inspiration,  or  kind  of  inspiration 
differing  from  that  of  other  men.  Some  of  them  certainly  had  a  very 
high  degree  of  it — Jesus  the  highest — so  I  think,  that  was  ever 
attained  by  man.  I  don't  wonder  you  do  not  accept  my  conclusions, 
I  wonder  much  more  at  the  kindness  with  which  you  speak  of  them. 
I  must  of  course  have  committed  errors  in  reasoning  and  in  conclusion. 
I  hoped  once  that  philosophical  men  would  point  out  both  ;  then  I 
would  confess  my  mistake  and  start  anew.  But  they  have  only  raised 
a  storm  about  my  head ;  and  in  a  general  way  a  man  wraps  his  cloak 
about  him  in  a  storm  and  holds  on  the  tighter.  It  would  be  very 
surprising  if  I  had  not  gone  to  an  extreme,  and  yet  I  do  not  think 
I  have  (pardon  my  apparent  want  of  modesty)  in  this  matter ;  for  after 
looking  again  and  again,  reading  and  talking,  I  find  a  flaw  in  the  pro 
cess.  G-od  is  infinite ;  therefore  he  is  immanent  in  nature,  yet  tran 
scending  it ;  immanent  in  spirit,  yet  transcending  that.  He  must  fill 


THEODORE   PAIIKER.  47 1 

each  point  of  spirit  as  of  space ;  matter  must  unconsciously  obey ;  man, 
conscious  and  free,  has  power  to  a  certain  extent  to  disobey,  but  obey 
ing,  the  immanent  God  acts  in  man  as  much  as  in  nature,  only  in  a 
higher  mode.  Hence  inspiration.  If  the  conditions  are  fulfilled,  it  seems 
that  inspiration  comes  in  proportion  to  the  quantity  of  a  man's  gifts  and 
his  use  of  these  gifts.  I  feel  in  me  a  something  that  leads  me  to  rever 
ence,  worship,  trust,  &c.  I  reckon  this  a  distinct  faculty  (as  much  as 
judgment,  reason,  imagination,  &c.),  or,  it  is  the  man  acting  in  a  special 
direction ;  of  the  existence  of  this  I  am  sure.  I  can't  analyze  it  further 
than  this,  into  a  sense  of  infinite  dependence  ;  here  the  subject  and  the 
predicate  seem  identical,  and  the  analytic  process  ends  with  me;  others 
may  be  more  skilful.  I  think  Brownson  sometimes  merely  splits  hairs, 
with  no  very  certain  desire  to  get  at.  the  truth.  Now  I  think  that  as 
the  man  developes,  he  finds  as  facts  given  in  his  consciousness,  an  idea 
of  God ;  where  this  idea  is  fully  unfolded,  that  it  is  the  idea  of  a  Being 
of  infinite  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  ;  but  we  are  not  content  with 
that,  but  add  various  human  appendages  thereto,  and  thus  generate 
what  I  call  a  conception  of  God  (I  tried  to  find  better  terms  to  express 
this  difference,  but  could  not).  The  idea  represents  an  objective  Being 
corresponding  to  it  exactly,  viz. : — The  God  who  is  of  course  not  only 
all  our  idea  represents,  but  much  more ;  while  the  conception  of  God, 
added  to  the  idea,  has  no  objective  reality  corresponding  to  it.  Jesus, 
Jupiter,  Mars,  &c.,  denote  conceptions  of  God  purely  subjective,  with 
various  limitations;  there  is  no  objective  reality  that  corresponds 
thereto.  But  when  I  speak  of  the  infinite  God,  1  speak  of  an  objec 
tive  reality,  in  whom  I  live,  and  move,  and  have  my  being.  In  short, 
we  create  our  conceptions  of  God  in  our  own  image. 

About  miracles,  I  agree  with  you  that  it  is  a  question  of  fact,  to  be 
settled  by  historical  evidence  only.  I  believe  in  something  extraordi 
nary  in  the  case  of  Jesus ;  his  healing  of  diseases  is  special,  but  not 
miraculous.  I  think  miracles  are  entirely  possible.  I  think  God  can 
manifest  himself  in  a  thousand  ways  that  he  never  did  reveal  himself  in, 
and  I  can't  say  that  he  won't  to-morrow.  But  I  see  God  much  more 
in  what  I  understand  than  in  what  I  am  ignorant  of.  Omne  ignotum 
pro  miraculo  kabetur  is  an  old  proverb,  but  Optime  notum  optime  adora- 
tum  suits  me  better.  The  deeper  I  look  into  nature  and  man,  the  more 
do  I  see  a  certain  orderliness,  a  lawfulness ;  not  the  action  of  fate,  but 
of  the  immanent  God.  And  the  further  I  look  the  deeper  is  my  admi 
ration,  and  the  more  absolute  is  my  trust.  I  say  with  Thomas,  "  My 
Lord  and  my  God !"  I  beg  you  to  write  me  often  ;  but  do  not  speak 
to  me  with  so  much  deference,  as  if  I  were  some  great  man ;  for  I 
know  that  I  am  a  very  humble  one ;  and  if  ever  you  can  make  it  agree 
able  to  come  to  West  Roxbury,  you  shall  find  a  prophet's  chamber  and 
hospitable  hearts  to  give  you  a  welcome. 

Believe  me,  truly,  your  friend  and  brother, 

THEO.  PAEKEB. 

TO   THE  SAME. 

West  Roxbury,  April  16th,  1845. 

MY  DEAB  FBIEND, — I  thank  you  for  your  kind  letter  of  the  9th, 
and  having  now  a  little  leisure,  I  will  reply  to  some  of  the  points  you 


472  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

refer  to.  I  hope,  however,  we  shall  sometime  have  an  opportunity  to 
confer  together  with  the  living  voice,  for  in  that  way  we  shall  the  more 
readily  come  to  an  understanding.  I  am,  like  yourself,  an  humble 
seeker  after  truth.  I  learn  a  little  one  year  and  a  little  the  next ;  but 
the  vast  ocean  of  truth  spreads  out  before  me,  immense  and  unvisited. 
I  feel  often  a  sense  of  imperfection ;  yes,  always,  and  sometimes  the 
sad  consciousness  of  positive  sin.  My  ideal  hovers  far  over  my  head, 
while  the  melancholy  fact  of  my  life  foots  it  humbly  through  the  dust. 
I  suppose  it  must  always  be  so ;  for  with  progressive  beings  the  ideal 
of  to-day  must  be  far  above  the  attainment  of  to-day.  It  is  indeed  the 
prophecy  that  to-morrow  is  to  fulfil,  or  some  to-morrow.  I  can  say 
also  with  Paul,  "  The  good  that  I  would,"  &c.  It  is  one  thing  to  see 
the  right,  another  to  will  the  right.  It  is  not  easy  to  account  for  this 
abnormal  state,  in  which  a  man  introduces  a  contradiction  into  his  con 
sciousness,  and  voluntarily  keeps  it  there.  To  explain  it  I  think  we 
must  look  far  away  into  the  future  destinies  of  the  man,  just  as  to  ex 
plain  the  caprices  of  a  little  child — its  preference  of  the  showy  before 
the  substantial — you  look  forward  to  the  maturity  of  that  child,  and 
find  that  the  feelings  of  infancy  are  but  a  trifle  compared  with  the 
rational  moral  action  of  a  full-grown  man,  living  in  his  normal  state. 
Can't  we  in  this  way  get  at  some  nearer  solution  of  the  problem  of 
sin  ?  I  confess  it  seems  so  to  me.  Many  men,  I  think  a  great  many 
theologians,  make  mistakes  in  this  matter ;  quite  as  absurd  as  it  would 
be  in  a  physician  who  should  suppose  that  the  child  of  four  years  was 
always  to  remain  a  child  of  four  years.  Of  course  there  is  then  no  ex 
planation  of  its  conduct,  its  tendencies,  or  its  instincts. 

About  the  matter  of  intercourse  with  God,  I  think  this  doctrine  of 
His  immanency  in  spirit,  or  in  space,  follows  from  the  very  idea  of  God 
as  infinite.  Of  course  he  transcends  creation  (spirit  as  well  as  matter), 
so  that  his  existence  and  action  are  not  limited  either  to  this,  or  by  it. 
I  suppose  that  all  the  action  of  the  creatures  who  have  no  freedom  is, 
in  a  word,  the  action  of  God ;  for  they  are  tools  of  God,  not  self- 
moving  artists.  But  I  think  he  has  given  man  a  certain  degree  of 
freedom — not  absolute  freedom,  which  he  alone  can  have,  but  relative 
freedom — so  that,  compared  to  God,  we  are  bound,  but  compared  to 
nature  we  are  free;  in  virtue  whereof  we  may,  up  to  a  certain  point,  do 
wrong,  abuse  the  powers  that  are  given  us.  In  that  case  we  act  by  the 
strength  God  has  given,  but  not  in  the  direction  he  commands.  If  we 
do  this  ignorantly,  it  is  an  error,  a  mistake ;  if  consciously,  wilfully,  it 
is  a  sin,  and  we  have  brought  a  contradiction  into  our  consciousness. 
In  each  case  we  suifer  ;  in  the  first  negatively,  by  the  loss  of  the  satis 
faction  that  would  come  from  conscious  obedience ;  in  the  second, 
positively  also,  from  the  remorse  that  we  have  brought  into  our  soul. 

Now  I  think  that  God  has  placed  in  the  world  checks  to  disobedience, 
such  as  (1)  negative — the  loss,  or  at  least  the  absence,  of  the  satisfac- 
faction  that  comes  of  obedience — a  state  of  uneasiness  and  discontent ; 
— positive  remorse,  grief,  and  also  the  outward  obstacles  which  come  from 
the  world  of  nature  or  the  world  of  man,  and  resist  what  is  not  in  har 
mony  with  God  ;  which  hurl  a  despot  from  his  throne,  which  arrest  the 
thief,  the  glutton,  the  miser  in  his  course  of  sin.  If  you  conclude  that 
man  ends  with  the  body,  these  checks  are  inadequate ;  but  I  regard 


THEODORE    PARKER.  473 

death  as  another  check  also ;  and,  if  that  is  not  enough,  I  doubt  not 
the  same  love  that  guides  us  here  has  other  means  yet  in  store,  and 
will  at  last  reclaim  us  all;  and  incentives  to  rectitude,  such  as  the 
satisfaction  one  feels  from  simple  virtue,  the  sense  of  wholeness,  of 
unity  of  consciousness,  the  being  one  with  God,  all  of  which  come 
directly  from  the  various  degrees  of  our  obedience.  Then,  too,  I  think 
that  death  also  must  be  a  still  further  help  in  the  way  of  perfection ; 
for,  as  God  orders  the  material  world  with  perfect  wisdom  and  infinite 
goodness,  so  must  it  be  with  the  spiritual  world.  His  world  is  one 
great  system  of  optimism  ;  of  this  I  feel  sure  as  that  l  +  lir2. 

My  notion  of  forgiveness  is  this, — that  by  a  perfect  law  each  con 
scious  departure  from  the  right  (for  that  only  is  sin)  is  followed  by 
painful  consequences  that  we  call  God's  justice ;  that  these  painful 
consequences  will  gradually  lead  to  repentance,  change  of  life,  obe 
dience  ;  that  then  we  feel  a  unity  of  consciousness,  once  more  a  sense 
of  restoration  to  God.  This  also  is  effected  by  the  action  of  the  same 
laws  working  jointly  with  ourselves,  and  this  we  call  God's  mercy;  yet 
it  is  the  same  thing  in  different  parts  of  the  progress.  All  this,  I 
think,  we  can  learn  with  no  miraculous  or  abnormal  action  of  God. 

It  seems  to  me  that  our  notions  of  interposition,  mediations,  and  the 
like,  come  from  the  notion  that  God  is  purely  extra-mundane,  and  not 
also  intra-mundane  (using  mundane  as  the  sum  total  of  creation,  mate 
rial  and  spiritual  both).  But  if  God  be  immanent,  and  be  the  mover 
of  all,  then  the  interposition  is  not  occasional  and  rare,  but  continual. 
I  think  the  notion  that  there  is  only  an  omnipotentia  operatica  (in 
virtue  of  which  God  is  in  my  garden  on]y  as  the  watchmaker  is 
present  in  my  watch)  and  not  an  omniprcesentia  essentialis,  has 
been  productive  of  much  evil,  very  much.  It  leads  to  all  those 
notions  of  God's  interfering,  sending  messengers,  &c.,  which  fill  so 
large  a  place  in  popular  theologies,  and  make  the  whole  spiritual  world 
a  piece  of  mechanism,  cold  as  clockwork,  and  dead  as  brass,  in  which 
God  has  nothing  to  do,  but  now  and  then  sends  some  one  to  wind  up 
the  weights  or  alter  the  pendulum — a  mechanism  which  all  the  rest  of 
the  time  gets  along  very  well  without  God !  This  to  me  is  awful ! 

Now,  about  inspiration  of  the  Bible.  I  believe  all  truth  is  divine, 
and  from  God,  in  ratione  originis  (for  he  is  the  author  of  it,  he  is  the 
body  of  the  truth  if  you  will)  but  none  peculiarly  divine  in  ratione 
acquisitions.  Antecedent  to  all  experience,  it  would  have  been  as  pro 
bable  that  God  should  make  his  communications  in  one  way  as  another, 
but  with  the  experience  that  in  all  matters,  excepting  such  as  pertain 
to  religion,  He  communicates  with  men  in  a  regular  manner,  through 
the  normal  exercise  of  their  faculties,  it  becomes  probable  that  the 
same  rule  holds  good  in  religion  also.  At  least  the  opposite  is  not  to  be 
assumed  outright.  I  look  at  such  things  historically,  and  cannot  settle 
matters  of  fact  a  priori ;  and  looking  in  this  way,  I  don't  find  evidence 
which  makes  it  probable  to  me  that  God,  even  in  his  communication 
with  men,  departed  from  this  normal  method.  I  doubt  not  that  He  can 
do  so,  I  don't  know  but  He  will  to-morrow,  but  I  don't  find  that  He  has 
hitherto. 

To  meet  great  emergencies  I  don't  find  that  God  makes  use  of  new 
means,  or  new  modes  of  means,  but  only  more  of  what  is  regular  and 


474  LIFE    AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OP 

normal.  Thus,  there  was  a  time  when  there  were  not  more  than  1000 
men  on  the  earth,  and  possibly  some  of  them  found  it  hard  to  get 
enough  to  eat,  &c.  They  would  have  said,  "  When  the  earth  contains 
10,000  men  we  shall  all  starve."  That  is  what  the  Malthuses  would 
have  said.  "No!"  said  some  pious  man,  "  God  will  rain  down  bread 
from  Heaven."  But  when  there  are  10,000, 10,000,000,  or  10,000,000,000, 
neither  prophecy  comes  true ;  the  nations  do  not  starve,  and  the  regular 
mode  of  production  continues  still  sufficient.  So  I  find  in  great  emer 
gencies  of  philosophy,  &c.,  there  is  no  departure  from  the  common 
mode.  I  doubt  not  that  God  is  no  less  the  Providence  of  the  world  in  all 
affairs  of  politics,  science,  &c.,  as  in  affairs  of  religion ;  yet,  to  produce 
great  results,  I  find  that  Solon  and  Washington,  that  Aristotle  and 
Newton,  that  Homer  and  Shakespeare  come  regularly  into  the  world, 
receive  aid  through  their  faculties,  and  produce  the  results  we  see.  I 
don't  find  that  they  had  anything  differing  in  kind  from  what  belongs 
to  you  and  me ;  but  only  a  greater  quantity  of  the  same  powers.  I 
take  it  this  rule  holds  good  in  the  religious  history  of  men.  I  think 
God  raises  up  men  with  a  great  religious  genius,  so  to  say,  who  differ 
from  you  and  me  as  Homer  or  Newton  differ  from  us ;  not  in  kind  of 
faculties,  not  in  the  mode  of  receiving  truth,  but  in  degree  only. 
Men  have  pretended  that  Homer  had  miraculous  aid  from  the  muses 
and  Phoebus  Apollo ;  that  Numa  held  communications  with  Egeria.  It 
was  thought  that  Wallenstein  could  be  shot  only  with  a  silver  bullet ; 
and  the  Indian  who  "had  seventeen  fair  fires"  at  Washington  with  his 
rifle,  concluded  **he  was  not  born  to  be  killed  with  a  bullet!"  "Yet  I 
think  there  was  nothing  miraculous  in  these  cases. 

Now,  these  great  religious  geniuses,  I  think,  come  in  the  plan  of 
Providence,  take  men  by  the  hand,  and  lead  us  on  in  civilization  up 
wards  towards  God.  They  help  us  to  see  for  ourselves.  But  for 
Christ,  what  would  you  and  I  have  been  ?  Surely  vastly  less  than 
we  are  now.  All  the  providential  men  before  Jesus  helped  the  race 
on  towards  him.  They  are  irouSayuyoi  (child-leaders)  to  conduct  us  to 
the  A^acrxaAo? !  You  may  call  these  men  mediators,  it  matters  not  to 
me.  Jesus  is  certainly  the  medium  through  which  millions  of  men 
have  gladly  come  to  God,  only  I  don't  think  He  stands  between  us  and 
God,  so  that  we  must  go  through  Jesus  to  come  to  God. 

Now,  about  the  Miracles  and  the  Kesurrection,  I  don't  reject  these 
things  a  priori,  but  simply  because  I  find  so  little  historical  evidence 
in  their  support.  I  must  have  more  evidence  to  support  a  statement 
at  variance  with  all  my  experience  than  I  demand  to  support  what 
agrees  with  my  experience.  In  the  case  of  the  New  Testament 
Miracles,  I  don't  find  adequate  evidence  ;  but  4his  circumstance 
does  not  make  me  think  any  writer  of  the  New  Testament  designed 
to  deceive,  still  less  that  Christ  was  a  deceiver.  Among  such  a  people, 
under  such  circumstances,  it  would  be  quite  surprising  to  me  if  such 
a  religious  teacher  had  arisen  and  had  not  been  popularly  believed  to 
work  miracles  !  About  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  I  think,  as  Justin 
Martyr  says,  in  that  remarkable  fragment  of  his  work,  vtp  avao-roio-tuq, 
that  the  Eesurrection  was  no  proof  of  that  doctrine,  for  it  did  not 
need  a  proof,  as  it  had  been  taught  before  by  Plato  and  Pythagoras. 
I  find  abundant  proofs  of  the  soul's  immortality.  I  have  no  more 


THEODORE    PARKER.  475 

doubt  of  it  than  of  the  fact  of  my  present  existence.  But  long  before 
I  abandoned  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  I  saw  that  it  had  nothing  to  do 
with  this  doctrine.  I  don't  believe  in  any  outward  criterion  of  spiritual 
truths. 

It  seems  to  me  the  conscience  of  you  and  me  is  the  Lydian  stone, 
with  which  we  are  to  try  the  gold  of  truth.  I  doubt  not  that  Grod  will 
make  at  last  this  existence  of  ours  a  blessing  to  each  one  of  us,  even 
to  the  worst  of  sinners,  for  I  can't  think  of  Him  otherwise  than  as  a 
kind  father,  who  leads  the  human  race  by  the  hand,  and  will  lead  us 
all  home  at  the  last,  losing  none  of  his  little  ones,  neither  you  nor 
me.  To  believe  the  eternal  damnation  of  any  one  of  the  human  race 
is  to  me  worse  than  to  believe  the  utter  annihilation  of  all ;  for  I  take 
it  the  infinite  damnation  of  one  soul  would  make  immortality  a  curse 
to  the  race ;  and  the  fact  that  immortality  has  seldom  been  taught  so 
that  it  would  be  a  blessing  to  mankind  to  have  the  doctrine  true,  is 
the  main  cause  why  some  reject  the  beautiful  doctrine  of  Christ  on 
this  point  at  this  day.  I  know  but  a  little  ways,  but  when  my  know 
ledge  ends  my  trust  in  Grod  does  not  end.  My  knowledge  is  finite, 
and  very  little,  but  my  faith  in  Grod  is  absolute  ;  and  just  as  I  distrust 
the  traditions  of  men,  does  my  faith  in  the  truths  of  Grod,  in  His 
goodness  and  love,  become  deeper  and  more  strong.  I  fear  you  will 
find  this  long  letter  wearisome  and  unsatisfactory,  my  dear  brother, 
but  I  hope  we  shall  some  day  have  a  chance  to  confer  face  to  face,  and 
more  fully. 

Truly  your  Brother,  T.  P. 


TO    MR.    JAMES    B.    PATTERSON,    DAYTON,    OHIO. 

.  Boston,  Feb.  28,  1855. 

DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND, — I  am  the  person  whom  you  met  in  the  cars, 
and  parted  from  at  Albany.  I  sought  you  in  the  cars,  but  in  the  dim 
light  I  failed  to  find  you.  I  took  a  good  deal  of  interest  in  the  bright 
young  face,  looking  so  pure  and  hopeful,  and  thinking  that  some  five- 
and-twenty  years  ago  I  was  on  the  same  road  that  you  are  now.  I  am 
sorry  that  you  have  met  with  the  "  misfortune  "  you  refer  to.  It 
certainly  casts  a  shade  over  a  young  man's  prospects  for  the  moment, 
not  for  the  day.  You  have  a  good  start  thus  far,  and  seem  to  have 
laid  the  foundation  well.  It  will  be  no  misfortune  in  the  end  that 
you  must  get  your  own  education.  It  will  bring  out  the  deep  manly 
elements  at  an  earlier  period ;  will  make  you  more  thoughtful  when 
you  would  else  have  been  more  gamesome  and  playful.  If  you  are  a 
teacher  you  can  find  much  time  to  study  by  yourself.  I  began  to 
teach  when  seventeen  years  old,  and  continued  it  for  four  winters, 
working  at  home  on  my  father's  farm  in  the  other  parts  of  the  year. 
I  always  found  from  eight  to  ten  hours  a  day  for  study,  beside  the 
work  hours  in  school;  then  I  taught  a  high  school  for  three  years 
more,  and  kept  far  ahead  of  the  class  in  college  of  which  I  was  a 
(nominal)  member.  You  can  do  all  that,  and  perhaps  more. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  well  to  pursue  the  same  studies  you  would  have 
taken  at  college  ;  with  the  addition  of  such  as  belong  to  your  calling 


4*76  LIFE   AND    CORRESPONDENCE    OF 

as  teacher,  or  you  may  perhaps  teach  till  you  accumulate  money 
enough  to  go  through  the  college  at  a  later  date.  No  good  thing  is 
impossible  to  a  serious  and  earnest  young  man  with  good  abilities  and 
good  moral  principles. 

But  above  all  things  be  careful  of  your  health  ;  your  success  depends 
on  a  sound  body.  Do  not  violate  the  laws  which  God  writes  in  these 
tables  of  flesh. 

Let  me  know  where  you  go  and  what  you  find  to  do,  and  I  will 
write  you  again  when  more  at  leisure. 

Truly  your  friend, 

THEO.  PAEKEE. 


TO   THE   SAME. 

Boston,  Jan.  7,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  SIE, — Tour  note  came  a  day  or  two  since,  and  I  take  the 
earliest  opportunity  to  answer  it.  I  replied  at  once  to  your  former 
letter,  but  it  miscarried,  I  suppose.  I  have  often  wondered  why  I  did 
not  hear  from  you.  Please  send  me  any  newspaper  that  contains  com 
munications  from  you,  with  a  mark  on  the  article  to  draw  the  eye 
thither.  I  hope  you  are  well  paid  for  your  fifteen  hours  work  in  a  post- 
officej  otherwise  it  is  waste  of  time.  I  thought  you  would  be  a  lawyer. 
You  may  easily  be  a  distinguished  one,  and,  with  a  little  more  effort,  a 
noble  man  in  the  calling  of  a  lawyer,  which  is  a  quite  different  thing.  I 
hope  you  will  try  for  that  also. 

The  love  of  surpassing  others  is  a  common  but  dangerous  quality. 
Love  of  absolute  excellence  (ideal  perfection)  is  one  thing,  love  of 
excelling  others  is  quite  another ;  not  a  noble  quality  at  all,  but  only 
an  expansion  of  selfishness :  it  is  vulgar  and  low.  I  trust  you  will 
avoid  that  utterly.  Set  a  high  mark  of  intellectual  and  moral  and 
religious  character  that  you  will'  reach,  the  other  things  will  take 
care  of  themselves.  If  I  were  amongst  low  men,  I  would  try  not  to 
be  low ;  if  among  high  ones,  to  be  as  high  as  possible.  Always  be 
yourself,  not  another  man's  self. 

But  I  have  not  time  to  write  you  a  sermon,  so  I  send  one  or  two 
that  are  printed.  Let  me  hear  from  you  as  you  have  inclination,  and 
believe  me, 

One  of  your  friends, 

THEO.  PAEKEB. 

One  more  letter  must  suffice  to  close  a  chapter  which,  after 
all,  can  only  vaguely  reproduce  the  extent  and  method  of 
Mr.  Parker's  influence  : — 


FROM   PROF.    GERVINUS. 

Heidelberg,  Dec.  29,  1856. 

HONORED  SIE, — Mr.  Apthorp  has  sent  me  from  Dresden  your  letter 
of  the  18th  August  of  this  year,  as  he  tarries  there  longer  than  he 
thought.  The  fines  from  your  own  hand  are  so  precious  to  me,  that  I 


THEODORE    PARKER.  477 

hasten  thankfully  to  reply.  The  announcement  in  your  letter  that  we 
already  have  the  pleasure  of  personally  knowing  you — in  fact,  without 
being  aware  of  it — took  me  not  disagreeably  by  surprise.  When  we 
saw  you  at  our  house  in  1844,  it  was,  in  fact,  before  we  knew  who 
Parker  was,  for  it  is  only  since  the  Grerman  translation  of  your  writings 
that  we  have  become  acquainted  with  you,  American  books  are  so 
seldom  sent  to  us.  And,  unfortunately,  so  many  people  pass  through 
this  little  gathering-point  of  the  great  routes,  that  the  interesting 
visitors  rejoice  us  less  in  the  mass  of  indifferent  ones ;  but  that  you 
should  have  been  lost  to  us  in  this  manner,  disturbs  us  greatly.  It 
must,  however,  humiliating  as  it  is,  be  confessed.  My  wife,  who  is 
an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  yours,  was  in  a  sort  of  despair. 

We  rejoice  every  day  at  the  happy  idea  of  Herr  Ziethen  to  translate 
your  works.  I  hope  that,  gradually,  this  will  have  wide  and  deep 
results.  We  possess  your  liberal  stand-point  in  theory,  in  learning, 
in  the  schools  ;  we  have  it  in  the  broad  circle  of  the  world,  among  all 
people  of  common  sense,  but  we  repel  it  from  the  place  whence  it 
ought  to  be  taught  and  planted,  so  that  morality  and  religion  might 
not  disappear  with  obscurantism.  Everybody  among  us  knows  how  it 
stands  with  the  religious  convictions  of  the  majority,  only  the  pulpit 
does  not  dare  to  say  it ;  that  is  the  domain  of  official  hypocrisy.  Con 
sequently  the  calling  of  the  clergyman  has  been  altogether  corrupted ; 
let  sermons  sound  ever  so  high,  the  whole  profession  is  one  of  the 
most  despised  in  Germany.  I  hope  that  the  impression  of  your  dis 
courses  will  be  favourable  to  a  practical  theology  among  us.  I  can 
remark  how  much  they  have  improved  the  orthodox  themselves.  I 
do  what  I  can  to  circulate  them,  in  order  to  make  propaganda  of  the 
theologians. 

To  this  end,  the  communications  which  you  have  twice  sent  me  are 
invaluable.  I  read  them  with  joy  and  edification.  It  is  a  pity  that  all 
efforts  towards  a  more  rational  theory  of  divine  things  among  us  must 
have  only  a  preparatory  significance.  We  shall  have  no  rational  Church 
until  we  have  a  rational  State.  In  this  respect,  a  great  apathy  now 
reigns  since  the  failure  of  1848 ;  but  there  is  a  deep  and  powerful  fer 
mentation,  and  I  venture  to  predict  that  the  next  attempt,  which  may 
come  late,  but  certainly  will  come,  will  not  pass  so  fruitlessly  away. 
Political  storms  must  free  us  from  a  good  deal  of  literary  choke-damp, 
before  anything  can  come  out  of  us.  The  blessing  of  our  literary  revo 
lution  of  the  last  century  has  become  a  curse,  just  as  Luther's  theology 
did  one  hundred  years  after  him.  I  strive  with  my  own  scribblings  to 
demonstrate  this  to  my  good  countrymen,  and  I  shall  frequently  recur 
to  this  theme  in  the  "  History  of  the  Nineteenth  Century." 

You  say  generous  things  about  this  book,  which  make  me  feel  very 
proud.  But  the  humanitarian  tendency  which  you  discover  therein  is 
rather  a  Grerman  one  than  peculiar  to  myself.  An  exclusively  parti zan 
history- writing  will  not  be  possible  here  for  a  long  time.  I  confess  that  I 
hold  deliberately  to  the  old-fashioned  faith  that  history  should  be  free 
from  all  partizanship,  except  for  the  universal  facts  of  reason  and  progress. 
Whether  such  a  principle  can  be  steadily  maintained,  after  a  stable 
government  has  been  founded,  in  which  parties  will  strive  to  rule,  is 
very  doubtful  to  me.  It  is  one  advantage  of  the  political  disability  in 


478  LIFE  OF  THEODORE  PARKER. 

which  we  find  ourselves,  that  the  historian  can  sustain  himself  upon  a 
height  of  humanity  which  he  will  be  obliged  to  relinquish  as  soon  as 
earnest  talk  begins  among  us  concerning  a  nation,  parties,  and  a  state. 
Pardon  my  pen  for  rambling  so.  'feut  may  I  hope  that  you  will  em 
brace  future  opportunities  to  communicate  with  me?  You  may  be 
assured  that  you  will  thus  lend  a  great  pleasure  to  our  home.  My  wife 
joins  her  sincere  regards  to  mine. 

Faithfully,  your  obliged 

GERVIITUS. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

NEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


DUE  AUG  7    1975 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-50m-8,'63(D9954s4)458 


NV  331472 

Weiss,   J« 

Life  &  correspondence 
of  Theodore  Parker*  *• 


BX9869 
P3 
WU 
v.l 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


5  vy 
*~  A 


